


A Lullaby for Weary Souls

by Gizzwhizz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adoption, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzwhizz/pseuds/Gizzwhizz
Summary: Ignis had never thought much about his life beyond his role as Advisor to the Crown. When the decade of darkness finally comes to an end, however, he finds he cannot say no to Prompto's request to start a family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to everyone who helped make this fic possible:  
> [Girraffle](http://girraffle.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful art  
> [kh358days2](https://kh358days2.tumblr.com/) for being my editor  
> [denali96](https://denali96.tumblr.com/) for being my cheerleader, emergency editor, and all around amazing person for listening to me whine!  
> The title is from the song "Don't Be Afraid of the Dark" by Veridia
> 
> "Pulcher" is the masculine Latin word for "beautiful." It is pronounced "pull-kher."

 

“Iggy…you ever thought about kids?” 

Ignis blinked his good eye. He had thought his lover had fallen asleep, judging by his slow even breathing. He himself had drifted into a light doze. They were laying in a tangle of limbs on the narrow camper bed, Prompto’s warm breath puffing against his collarbone where he’d tucked his head under Ignis’. The question was so unexpected that his mouth moved before his mind, to buy him some time. Sometimes he wondered if Prompto knew that plain stalling was the source of so many of his puns. 

“Seeing as neither I nor my choice of partner are endowed with the correct equipment, I fear I had not given it much thought, no." 

It was the wrong thing to say. Prompto’s limbs pulled in like a turtle retreating into its shell. The gunner twisted and wriggled until he was laying on the bed with his back to Ignis instead of half-wrapped around him. 

“You know what I meant,” Prompto grumbled. He had. Of course he had. But the truth was that he didn’t truly want to explore the idea. They had such precious little time together these days. He didn’t want to spend it fighting. 

“I haven’t had much free time to devote to the subject,” Ignis tried. He wrapped his arms around Prompto and pressed himself as close as he could to the gunner’s too-slim body. He had lost weight himself in the eight years since Noct had disappeared. Everyone had, when the beasts had become scarce and the greenery had died off nearly everywhere except in Lestallum’s greenhouses, with the exception of a few bitter and hardy plants. Somehow, despite all that, Ignis felt personally responsible for Prompto’s protruding bones. He always tried to have fresh meat on hand when they met up. 

Prompto joked that Ignis was trying to fatten him up and Ignis didn’t deny it. 

“What about before?” Prompto continued, like an incessantly buzzing fly. “Before everything, I mean. You had to have thought about it a little bit.” 

Ignis frowned and then sighed. Why were they even wasting their time—too little time—on this conversation? He pulled his arms back and made to get up. 

“Oh yes,” he spat, “I considered the subject carefully between University, Council meetings, and making sure Noct did not manage to starve or drown in his own filth.” 

A hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. _‘Wait,’_ the hand pleaded, squeezing almost painfully. _‘Don’t go. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Just please don’t go.’_ Ignis relented and fell back into the bed. Immediately Prompto was winding himself around him like an octopus once more. When chapped lips found his own Ignis was utterly helpless not to kiss back. 

_‘I’m sorry,’_ that kiss said again. _‘I know you didn’t think you’d have a life of your own. I know we’re a surprise. I know you’re out of your depth. But I’m here.’  
_

Ignis sighed and let the kiss continue for several long, wonderful moments before he pulled back to kiss Prompto’s forehead and tuck the blond’s head back under his own. Prompto clung to him as if he wanted to crawl inside his rib cage, not that Ignis would have minded. 

“Vyv really liked this picture I got of a kid last week,” Prompto said into the silence after several long moments of simply listening to each other’s breathing. “She was so thin and she had these huge eyes, Iggy. I don’t even know why I took the shot…I kind of hate looking at that picture. But she was just so…anyway Vyv loved it. Said it would be good for a piece on the orphanages, even though she wasn’t an orphan.” 

The unspoken ‘Not yet,’ hung in the air like a mosquito. 

“Ah, so that’s what put your mind on children,” Ignis said quietly. He sighed and squeezed his arms around Prompto. 

“I’m not opposed to the idea, per se.” Ignis paused to lick his lips. “As I said, I never thought much about it.” And he hadn’t. He had been raised to be Noct’s advisor and closest confidant. Before their road trip it had taken all of his time, for years. Even after, he had always been conscious of his duty to Noct. Before Prompto, he had barely spared a thought to what his own life could hold. 

“I don’t mean now,” Prompto said quickly, as if that made all the difference in the world. “I mean…later…you know, after Noct comes back. After we fix all this. After…we can have lives again.” 

The last was nearly whispered and Ignis pressed another kiss to Prompto’s unruly hair. 

“You’ve always wanted children, have you not?” Ignis observed. Because of course he had. Prompto had a heart big enough to encompass the world twice over. Ignis, on the other hand, was still learning his own limits. He could feel the heat in Prompto’s face as he blushed. 

“I mean…I guess, yeah,” the blond spluttered. He was fidgeting in Ignis arms now, embarrassed, but Ignis had no intention of letting him go just yet. He closed his sightless eye, a tic he’d picked up at some point to replace fiddling with his glasses. It made sense. Prompto himself had been adopted, after all. After being spirited away from a Niflheim lab, they now knew. Between Prompto’s meeting with his “father” and what Ignis had learned himself, he shuddered whenever he thought of the fate Prompto had been saved from. In that context, he could see how adopting a child himself own could feel as natural as breathing to the gunner. 

Ignis hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that he’d never thought much on the subject or that he wasn’t against it. What was more, he knew it would make Prompto happy. 

“After Noct comes back,” he said softly, echoing Prompto’s own words. “So long as we can start with one,” he added after a moment. Prompto had a tendency to get carried away when he was excited, after all. 

Maybe that wasn’t the most enthusiastic way to phrase it, but you’d hardly know from the way Prompto practically vibrated in his arms and suddenly sought out his lips again. This time Ignis was treated to a series of short, sloppy kisses that soon left his mouth to seek out his cheeks and his shoulders and was accompanied by a litany of, “Thank you. Thank you! You won’t regret it Iggy, I swear. THANK YOU!’ 

Finally, totally unable to stop the assault, Ignis could do nothing but laugh. 

* * *

 

Noct did indeed returned, but in the end it only lasted a few days. Beaten and bleeding, Ignis felt the first warmth of a true sunrise in ten years with Prompto pressed against his side, sobbing. 

Ignis had known. They all had. His research into the Starscourge and the Prophecy had been quite clear on what role Noct was to play in the end. But losing him still _hurt_ and the three of them, the three that were left, stayed together long enough to lay Noctis to rest. There was no royal tomb, at least not yet. Perhaps one would be erected and Noct exhumed and moved to it in the future. Instead Gladio dug a hole on the hill overlooking the ruins of Insomnia and they laid the King of Kings to rest with his father’s blade as well as Noct’s own Engine Blade, upon Prompto’s insistence. 

Once he had learned the truth, Ignis knew he wouldn’t be part of the rebuilding. He wanted only a quiet life now. A private life. Somehow (Ignis suspected because of their connection to Noct) when they returned to Lestallum and applied for housing he and Prompto were granted a two-bedroom apartment. Two bedrooms. It was practically unheard of. It was cramped and had an odd smell of spice and must from the apothecary below, but Prompto assured him it was practically luxurious. 

In the meantime Ignis put out word that he was looking for Coctura from Galdin Quay, if she had come with the refugees from that area as he suspected. He found her easily enough and soon the two of them had rented a small space for a café, to start. Ignis planned to expand into a full restaurant someday. 

Prompto worked mainly for Vyv, who still paid him handsomely for contributions to his not-so-underground magazine, which had somehow endured and even flourished all these years. Ignis suspected that the loss of internet and television services, which were only now being restored, had contributed greatly to Vyv’s success, but it was impressive nonetheless. Prompto sometimes talked of opening his own studio, but he wasn’t interested in photographing weddings or families or newborns and so only kicked around the idea now and then. 

Ignis and Coctura’s Café was opened, their apartment was _finally_ fully furnished, and six months had passed since the Dawn before Prompto brought up The Question again. Ignis admired his restraint, having expected it much sooner. He suspected, however, that Prompto had waited on purpose until they had fully settled into their new lives. Until Ignis would have no ready-made excuses to buy more time. 

Standing in their kitchen, Ignis turned away from the dinner he was making and wrapped his arms around his lover. 

“For you, I think I can manage it,” he finally said, and then squawked indignantly as Prompto nearly pushed him into the hot stove in his excitement.

* * *

Ignis was used to bureaucracy and was even glad for the time it took for them to be approved as potentially adoptive parents. Prompto was ready to climb the walls after their first round of interviews, but by the third round—and two home inspections—even Ignis was fighting mounting frustration. 

While he appreciated the need for such intense screening, the former advisor in him felt it could be streamlined considerably given the current “Orphan Crisis” as Vyv’s rag so colorfully put it. In the end, it was nearly a year after the Dawn before he and Prompto received their full approval. The very next day they traveled to Insomnia for the first time since burying Noct to visit the largest Children’s Home, as they called it, in the region.

* * *

The woman who met them, Robyn, was kind but Ignis sensed a hint of severity in the undercurrent of her voice, just waiting for an excuse to come forward. 

“We try to keep as many of our kids in foster homes as possible, but the fact is there simply aren’t enough available families to go around,” she said as they began their tour of the facility. “So some kids have to stay here, but we try to keep them for as short a time as possible.” 

For once in his life, Ignis was glad for the injury that had taken his sight. Now and then Prompto reached for his arm and touched his elbow in a reassuring gesture that Ignis suspected was as much for Prompto’s comfort as for his own. Without his sight, he couldn’t shake the image of being led through a pound where the wide, wet eyes of shivering dogs in chain-link cages were replaced with shivering children. Judging by Prompto’s repeated touches, Ignis didn’t imagine the reality was too far off.  

Ignis knew as soon as Prompto stopped walking. From the click of heels, he could tell that Robyn hadn’t paused in her tour of the building. But the heavy tread of Prompto’s boots had ceased. 

“Love?” Ignis stopped as well, half turning and tilting his head slightly. His fingers squeezed around the tip of his cane. It felt strangely cumbersome in his grip. He had grown so used to not needing it. This building was new, however, and he had learned in the past how foolish it could be to forgo using his cane in new spaces, his pride be damned. 

“What’s _his_ name?” Prompto asked, and Ignis could only assume he was pointing to a child. Only, he hadn’t heard any sounds to indicate a child was playing nearby. No quiet voice or burst of giggles as they had heard on and off while they walked. There was a beat of silence as Robyn hesitated, followed by the susurrus of clothing rustling as she straightened some part of her attire. 

“He’s…a bit of a problem case,” she began. Her voice was slow and steeped in something between sympathy and artificial cheer. The result was strange and immediately set Ignis on edge. He took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that she was in the business of finding lasting homes for abandoned children. Such a task had likely left her more than a little removed by sheer necessity. She couldn’t afford to be a bleeding heart for all of them. That wasn’t how business worked. And this, at its core, was a business. 

Still, he would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t a bit put off by her tone, which seemed to imply she was only seconds away from announcing something along the lines of, ‘If you’ll just come this way we have some much nicer models over here.’ 

Prompto’s boots slapped against tile again as he walked away from them, ignoring Robyn’s strangled attempt to call him back. Ignis squared his stance and felt briefly for the wall behind him before leaning his weight against it. 

“Might I ask the name of the child in question?” he asked. Robyn sighed. 

“Pulcher.” Her answer was accompanied by another rustle of clothes as she fidgeted again, or perhaps folded her arms. “We don’t know much about him, unfortunately. He’s only four, so he doesn’t know where he’s from. He says his last name is ‘Tanem,’ we think, but he has a bit of a lisp and of course he can’t spell it. We can’t find any records of anything close to that name.” 

“And why would you describe him as a ‘problem case,’ as you put it?” Ignis continued. He could just barely hear the tenor of Prompto’s voice across the room, but he couldn’t make out any of what was being said. 

“He came to us just before the Dawn,” Robyn explained. “A patrol found him…hiding near his parents’ bodies. They’d been killed by deamons, apparently, though they found them in a rough area. Not all the stories of Raiders were just stories, you know.” 

“I’m well aware,” Ignis said coolly. 

Robyn paused, Ignis guessed to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or some other small tic of body language that he couldn’t hear. “We try to keep as many children in an actual home as we can, but Pulcher has been through two foster homes already. It’s a pity, really, he’s such a sweet thing…” 

“Is he acting out violently?” Ignis asked seriously. The question left a bad taste in his mouth. They were talking about a child, after all, but he also knew how big Prompto’s heart was and he wanted to know exactly what they might be getting into. 

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Robyn assured him quickly. Then she sighed again. “No it’s more…that he’s afraid. Of everything, if the notes in his file are to be believed, but especially of the dark. Both of his previous placements eventually fell apart because the household simply couldn’t sleep—and there was the health of other children in the home to consider.” There was the wet draw of a tongue across lips. “In his intake form the patrolman that picked him up noted that his parents had been dead for at least a few days before they found him,” she added in a much quieter voice. “He doesn’t talk much.” 

“Prompto is well-versed in holding one-sided conversations,” Ignis said. He blinked his good eye, surprising himself with his own defensiveness. 

“I’ve been waiting for a spot to open up with one of our more experienced foster families,” Robyn said slowly. “That’s the only reason he’s been here for more than a day.” 

Ignis opened his mouth again. Not even he knew what he was about to say, and he would never find out for at that moment he heard Prompto’s distinctive tread approaching them once more. This time it was accompanied by a lighter, much more hesitant step. The second sound was a quicker _tap-tap_ along the linoleum. A smaller stride. It scurried along immediately in Prompto’s wake, meaning the child must be partially hiding behind Prompto as they approached. 

Ignis consciously relaxed his shoulders but otherwise remained still, aware that he could all-too-easily undo whatever magic Prompto had worked to get the child to agree to come near them. 

“Pulcher,” Prompto said gently. “This is Ignis. You remember I told you about him?” There was no reply, but Ignis tilted his chin down anyway. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Pulcher,” he said evenly. Still there was no reply, but neither did he hear the staccato of small, retreating feet. Ignis raised his head again to meet Prompto’s gaze, sharing a look without sight. 

_We are really doing this, aren’t we?  
_

_Please?  
_

Ignis adjusted his glasses with one hand and then nodded, once. “I don’t believe we’ll need to peruse your files after all,” Ignis said to Robyn. “As long as that’s all right with you.” 

Robyn’s clothes rustled a final time and when she spoke again he was sure it was because she’d propped her hands on her hips. 

“I’m only going to say this once. This boy needs a long-term, if not permanent, placement. Another short-term home will only cause more harm.” Her voice had an edge of steel that made him immediately reconsider how much he liked her. It was a challenge to hold back the smirk that tried to tug at the edge of his lips. 

“We play for keeps,” Prompto replied, just as seriously and in that don’t-mess-with-us tone that had Ignis automatically reaching for his hand. Prompto took it, twining Ignis’ cool fingers with his warm ones. “What do you think, buddy?” Prompto asked, voice directed down and slightly behind him. Whatever response the boy made was silent but Prompto’s wasn’t as he let out an excited whoop and cried, “Yeah! There ya go!” Ignis couldn’t stop his smile this time. No matter his reservations, Prompto’s excitement was as infectious as ever. 

“I imagine there is quite a lot of paperwork waiting for us?” he asked. Robyn waited a beat more, likely still sizing them up, then her heals echoed loudly in the hallway as she began leading them on once more. 

“This way.”


	2. Chapter 2

There were quite a few forms to fill out, as it turned out, as well as more home visits to schedule and periodic check-ins with a social workers in Lestallum. Many of the adoption agency’s practices were based off what people remembered of the old system but the truth was, a year after the Dawn the government was still a thing in shambles and the efforts to find homes for those who had been orphaned in the Long Night were largely a volunteer effort. The idea of such little government oversite made Ignis a bit uneasy, if he was telling the truth, but there was no helping it. 

And certainly no talking Prompto out of it now. Of course Prompto would let them walk away if Ignis really asked, but there would be no stopping the resentment that such a request would engender. 

By the time they found themselves outside once more, Ignis could tell from the sounds of increased foot traffic alone that it was the hour that most people would be returning home from work. Lestallum was a long drive ahead and if the boy really suffered from crippling nightmares—and here he really couldn’t help but think about Noct—they would be best dealt with somewhere other than a moving car. 

“Maybe we should get a hotel for tonight?” Prompto wondered at his elbow, as though reading his thoughts. If anyone of importance knew they were in the city, they might have been invited to the partially-rebuilt Citadel for the night, but since neither Prompto nor Ignis were interested in going near that particular building no one did know. And besides that, they hadn’t brought a lot of money. The fact was, no economy on the continent had recovered enough to allow anyone to be truly “wealthy.” 

The idea of staying in a cheap motel like they had ten years ago when they were on the run, a fact that had been essentially the worst kept secret in the Lucian countryside, brought a smile to Ignis’ lips. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. And when we’ve secured a room, some food I think,” he said. Prompto touched his elbow just enough to angle him in the right direction before starting off, his other hand clutched tight to the little boy’s. Ignis tapped along after them with his cane, easily distinguishing the sound-shadow of Prompto’s footsteps from the traffic around him from long years of familiarity. 

In his other hand he held the bag of Pulcher’s scant belongings. Clothes, mostly. All stuffed into a garbage bag. 

A garbage bag. 

When it had first been handed over Prompto made a noise that was almost a stifled gasp and, a second later, Ignis had nearly dropped the thing at the familiar slippery crunch under his fingers. 

“We’ve found it’s the best to use for kids who have to move at a moment’s notice,” Robyn had explained. Ignis wanted to argue, and Prompto very nearly did until the former advisor put a hand on the blond’s shoulder. It did make a certain amount of sense. Give a child a bag and tell them they could only take what could fit inside. But surely the same objective could be achieved with a small suitcase or even a duffle bag. Anything but the message sent by having your things hastily thrown into a garbage bag of all things. 

But Ignis held his tongue and made Prompto hold his as well because he’d been on the other side of these things enough to know what answer he would receive. Funding. They simply didn’t have the money. 

He made a mental note to find Pulcher some proper luggage as soon as possible. His own fingers gripped the hateful plastic tighter as someone shoved their way past him. 

They reached the small car they had borrowed, parked in a tall parking garage, a few minutes later and Ignis was more than happy to thrust the bag into the trunk with their own overnight bags, which had been brought along just in case the car broke down. Lessons once learned were hard forgotten, it seemed. Meanwhile Prompto started the car and activated his only half-trustworthy Moogle Maps app to look for motels on the edge of town, where once the magical Wall had clearly marked the barrier of Inside and Outside Insomnia. Pulcher was made to sit in Ignis’ lap as there were no seatbelts in the back seat, let alone a booster seat. They had only been expecting to sign some paperwork, after all. 

The boy climbed into his lap as asked, but his back remained ramrod straight against Ignis’ chest. He didn’t protest when Ignis wrapped his arms around him lightly, didn’t make any noise at all really, but neither did he relax. 

Ignis wondered again just what they were getting themselves into. 

“Do you have a favorite food?” Ignis asked as Prompto pulled them out into traffic. It was slow going. At least that hadn’t changed, even if the population had dropped considerably from the rush hour jams that Ignis remembered. Pulcher remained perfectly still for three beats and then shrugged. 

_‘So he is alive then_ ,’ Ignis thought, rolling down his window to feel a bit of the late afternoon breeze on his face. Never mind that it was tainted with the acrid scent of car exhaust. A traffic jam always seemed to raise a car’s temperature. That had remained true even in the darkness, with no sun to beat down and roast the passengers. 

“Right. Brussels sprouts it is then,” Ignis announced good naturedly. He expected a refusal—all children hated brussels sprouts regardless of the fact that few knew what they truly were. For a heart-stopping moment his mind flashed to Noctis, nearly a man grown and grumbling about the vegetables touching his seared garula steak as he hunched over a camp chair and flicked carrots into the fire when he thought Ignis wasn’t looking. The thought had Ignis’ good eye blinking hard behind his tinted glasses. 

Pulcher, however, made no reply whatsoever. Prompto must have looked over in the silence that followed. Ignis could hear the leather of his jacket creaking as he shifted in his seat. 

“What about some burgers, huh? I’d bet money there’s a Crow’s Nest near where we’re staying.” 

“That wouldn’t happen to be because you saw it on the map, would it?” Ignis wondered out loud and received a light punch to the arm for his trouble. 

“Don’t go giving away my secrets!” Prompto gasped, sounding appalled. Ignis chuckled and shook his head—until he noticed that the small body in his lap still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even uttered a nervous laugh. 

Ignis had made a habit of avoiding frivolous thoughts like wishing for his sight back. It only lead to darker thoughts. But Astrals, he wished he had it now, if only long enough to look at Pulcher’s face. Being able to see the child’s indifferent mask was no guarantee that he’d be able to help or understand him, but it certainly couldn’t have hurt. 

Ignis shifted his head in Prompto’s direction, anticipating that his lover would glance at him in return. 

“We’ll get some burgers,” Prompto said again. “Or some cockatrice nuggets. Whatever you want. What do you say, little buddy?” 

Pulcher didn’t say anything.

* * *

By the time they made it to the motel, Ignis was more relieved than he had been in some time. Pulcher simply refused every attempt at communication and eventually, _finally_ , Prompto had stopped trying. The rest of the drive was made in a stony silence that had an almost physical weight to it. Pulcher scrambled away from Ignis as soon as he was released, but he didn’t go far. He stopped just outside the car door, waiting. Most likely watching. Soon enough Prompto had his hand again and was getting their things from the trunk while Ignis made his way to the front desk to book their room. 

Dinner at the Crow’s Nest across the parking lot was just as silent as the drive had been, though in the end Prompto’s distaste for silence won out and he began babbling to the boy about their small apartment and describing what Lestallum was like. He even pulled out his phone to show Pulcher a few pictures. 

Just as in the car, the boy never said a word, but he did eat, and quite ravenously at that. It was somewhat hilarious to hear Prompto admonishing someone else to slow down and chew their food, though Ignis hid his smiles behind his drink. By the time they were done, Pulcher had eaten not only his own food but most of Prompto’s fries as well. He had wanted Ignis’ too, but Ignis rebuffed him, warning him he’d get a belly ache. 

At that, for the first time, he heard the boy give an annoyed sort of huff. Ignis’ heart surged ridiculously at the noise and he almost gave over his fries anyway. Almost. 

Back in the room, Prompto bathed Pulcher in the motel’s cramped tub and, with no pajamas in the garbage bag of belongings, gave Pulcher one of his own T-shirts to wear as a makeshift nightgown. Ignis didn’t doubt it must have hung down below the boy’s knobby knees, the “short sleeves” nearly touching his wrists. He slipped into the bathroom next while Prompto tucked the boy in. 

The air was still steamy from the hot bath. Ignis had meant to undress for a quick shower, but instead found himself leaning on the counter, not-staring at himself in the probably fogged mirror. He was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped when arms wrapped around him from behind. 

“You okay, babe?” Prompto breathed in his ear, pressing a kiss to Ignis’ neck. “I know we weren’t expecting to bring a kid home with us tonight, just do the paperwork. I’m sorry if I jumped the gun it’s just…he was by himself in a corner Iggs. Not coloring or playing or anything, just sitting there. Like a ghost. I…I think I know what that feels like and it’s not a feeling a four-year-old should have.” 

Ignis let one of his hands drop to cover Prompto’s, squeezing it in reassurance. 

“It’s not that,” he said softly. 

“Then what is it?” 

For a moment Ignis weighed his options. He could lie and Prompto would know but wouldn’t say anything. He could omit some of the truth and Prompto might guess but still wouldn’t say anything. Or he could tell the truth and risk the bare facts being the final straw that pushed his lover over the edge after the stress of the day. 

He opted for the truth. 

“Noctis became my charge when I was six and he was four,” Ignis said gently. “I thought, naively I see now, that this would be like that. But our home isn’t the Royal Court, and Pulcher isn’t a prince to be groomed. He’s a scared little boy and besides…besides the both of us were raised more by servants and nannies than anyone who truly cared for our comforts or fears. Prompto…I’m afraid I’m not sure how to do this.” 

“And I do?” Prompto responded, but there was a hint of laugher in his voice, self-deprecating though it was. “So we’ll learn together. That’s the point, Ignis.” The hands around his waist tightened. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said again softly, like a prayer. It felt like a prayer. 

Ignis shifted until his back was to the counter and looped his own arms around Prompto’s neck. He bent with practiced ease to kiss lips that were full and healthy and no longer predominantly chapped and, as always, Ignis briefly thanked all the gods for small blessings. 

“Alright,” he agreed, laying his forehead against Prompto’s. “Together then.” He could feel the warmth of Prompto’s smile like a physical heat and was helpless to do anything but return it. 

“Hurry up and take your shower. I’ll try to find something we can read to the little guy that doesn’t have monsters or dead parents or anything.” 

“Try one of Vyv’s ‘historical’ articles. Those would put anyone to sleep,” Ignis teased and received a light swat for his troubles. 

“You’re terrible,” Prompto laughed. “That’s my boss you’re talking about, you know.” Ignis managed to steal another kiss from his lover’s laughing lips before he was pushed towards the shower once more.   

By the time Ignis had finished his shower, Prompto was just finishing the first chapter of a children's novel he must have pulled up on his phone. Ignis thought he recognized it as _Peter Pan_. Ignis sat on the room's second bed as he toweled his hair dry, dressed now in soft sleep clothes. 

He had also replaced his glasses before opening the bathroom door and now he could feel the humidity of their fogged lenses. Had it been only Prompto waiting for him he wouldn't have bothered but he worried that his scars might upset Pulcher. 

He worried about more than that, but didn't let himself examine those feelings too deeply. 

"I'll be right back, okay, bud?" Prompto asked. Pulcher must have nodded because a moment later the TV flickered to life and Prompto’s lips hurriedly met Ignis' as he passed. Then the bathroom door shut, leaving the room quieter somehow despite the added noise of the television. 

Ignis debated what he should say, alone now with Pulcher for the first time. He didn't have much experience with children, not since he had been one himself, and for a brief moment he felt the same panic he'd felt earlier in the bathroom begin to set in. What if they'd made a mistake? A terrible mistake. 

_'Come now, he's only a child,'_ he chided himself, letting the damp towel pool in his lap. He turned his face towards the head of the second bed where he knew Pulcher must still be sitting. He hadn't heard the boy move, at any rate. 

"Do you wish to have your own bed tonight, or share ours?" he asked. Robyn had mentioned nightmares, after all. It seemed prudent to give Pulcher the option now rather than wait and be woken in the middle of the night. After several seconds filled only with silence, Ignis realized Pulcher must have given some form of nonverbal response. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to answer aloud, Pulcher. I can't see you. I'm blind." Ignis tapped his glasses for emphasis and offered a smile that he hoped was genuine. 

"Uh...no," a small voice floated over to him, barely audible over the buzz of the television. "Bud...can we leave the lies on?" 

Ignis' brain automatically substituted "lights" for "lies," but it was another word that truly gave him pause. 

We... 

"Of course. The television as well if you would like," Ignis offered. 

"Okay," Pulcher replied just as quietly as before. Ignis waited, but it was clear after only a few moments that nothing more would be forthcoming. What was more, he didn't have the heart to push. Instead, he got up and carefully made his way along the edge of the bed to lay his towel over the room's chair before returning to climb under the covers. Soon enough the bathroom door banged opened once more to admit a waft of warm air. Ignis felt the bed dip by his knees. 

"You wanna sleep with us tonight, Pulcher?" Prompto asked, his voice slightly muffled around his toothbrush. 

"I...is okay," Pulcher mumbled once more. The sound of brushing paused before resuming again with renewed vigor. 

"Okay. Just let us know if you change your mind," Prompto offered before ducking into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. 

"We did agree to leave the lights and television on," Ignis informed his lover as Prompto joined him. 

"Fine by me," Prompto mumbled and Ignis knew he wasn't just saying it. Prompto could sleep through just about anything. Just as the Long Night had left Ignis an even lighter sleeper than he had once been, Prompto seemed to have moved in the exact opposite direction. 

"Good night, Pulcher. Wake us up if you need anything," Prompto mumbled, already wrapping his arms around Ignis and cuddling into the former advisor's back. 

"Good night," Ignis echoed. Prompto was a comforting warmth at his back, but even so he kept his glasses on as he laid his head on his pillow, his good eye remaining opened behind the reflective lenses. 

He listened to the sound of Prompto's breathing, the hum of voices on the television, and the soft noises of Pulcher shifting restlessly beneath the covers of his own bed. Every time he thought the boy had settled in, he would hear him move around again. Until, finally, there was stillness and only the drone of voices in the room. 

Ignis let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and felt his own body relax, melting back into his lover's welcomed embrace. 

Then the screaming began.


	3. Chapter 3

Ignis felt the nauseating swerve of the car for the third time that morning and automatically tightened his hold on the child in his lap. He closed his good eye in a desperate attempt to fight of the ache setting in behind it. 

Despite having been asleep, Prompto had reacted first to Pulcher’s desperate cries, fairly launching himself over Ignis and landing hard on the floor between the beds. Then he was trying to wake the boy, calling his name and scooping him up. Waking Pulcher, however, only seemed to make things worse. In truth Ignis couldn’t blame him. He was disorientated, in a strange place with two men he didn’t know. It was really no wonder he had clawed his way out of Prompto’s arms and fled, locking himself in the bathroom. 

Ignis had still been frozen in bed, half propped on his elbows, when he heard the door slam shut. He remained that way, heart pounding in his throat, as he dimly registered Prompto knocking on the door and trying unsuccessfully to coax the boy into opening it. Pulcher’s sobs echoed against the tile in the small bathroom, but it wasn’t his cries that were ringing in Ignis’ ears. 

Instead his head was filled with the cries of a slightly older boy, and his own much younger voice in place of Prompto’s, promising a raven haired prince that everything would be all right if he would only unlock the door while a nanny hovered over his shoulder, wringing her hands. 

As though in a daze, Ignis had gotten up and retrieved a small case from his luggage. He’d flicked it opened and selected the appropriate tools. Then he had found Prompto’s shoulder, gave it a gentle nudge to move him out of the way, and picked the bathroom lock with practiced ease. 

Prompto had squeezed past him in an instant, but Ignis only retreated back to the bed where he sat and listened to Prompto whispering every variation of “it’s alright,” over and over again for what felt like hours. Eventually, Pulcher calmed, likely out of sheer exhaustion, but by then they were all three far too frazzled to even entertain the notion of going back to bed. 

The blare of a horn broke Ignis from his thoughts and he felt the car sway once more. He had to grit his teeth and count to ten before he trusted himself to speak. Prompto was exhausted and sightless or not, Ignis knew he was a terrible passenger at the best of times. Getting into a fight now was the last thing they needed. 

“Perhaps we should stop in Hammerhead for some coffee,” he suggested instead. He couldn’t quite manage to keep the tightness from his voice, however. 

“Yeah,” Prompto readily agreed. His voice was slightly hoarse and unusually flat. A beat passed before he added, “Could say ‘Hi’ to Cindy, too.” 

It was supposed to be a joke. They both knew it was supposed to be a joke. Ignis was not a jealous man, but a decade ago he had found himself growing increasingly irritated by Prompto’s fawning over the provocative mechanic. At the time he hadn’t known the cause, or hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself, but when Noctis was lost everything had changed. It was more than a year into their affair before Ignis had confessed the annoyance he’d felt in those early days (it wasn’t jealousy, he wasn’t jealous!) and, to his surprise, Prompto absolutely delighted in it. In fact, he had made it a point to continue his playful flirting with Cindy ever since, even after Cindy had made it clear that Holly was more than just a friend. 

It was a joke between the four of them, now. But on this morning, missing sleep and caffeine while transporting an enigmatic child that promised to change their lives forever, Ignis could find no humor in it. Apparently Prompto couldn’t either because he muttered a soft, “Sorry,” as he flicked on the turn signal. 

Ignis started to reach for him, but his back pressed against the seat as breaks squealed and then he heard Prompto’s car door open. Sighing, Ignis turned his attention back to Pulcher as he opened his own door and stepped out, bending to set the boy on his feet. 

“Well, howdy, y—” 

Cindy didn’t get a chance to finish her greeting before Pulcher tore himself out of Ignis’ grip with a scream of “Mama!” 

Ignis froze, utterly dumbfounded. He tracked the sound of small running feet through the dirt and then Cindy’s soft “oof” of surprise. Then Pulcher was sobbing again. 

“What in tarnation?” Cindy asked, but it was barely a whisper. Ignis let his fingers trail along the side of the car for guidance as he started forward and suddenly he and Prompto were talking at once. 

“Our apologies…” 

“Oh, jeeze…” 

“He must think—” 

“I guess you look like—” 

“Stop,” Cindy said firmly. Ignis hadn’t heard such an edge of steel in her voice since the Dawn had come. His mouth snapped shut of its own accord. 

“Now, what’s this little guy’s name?” she demanded. Her voice was still quiet, but there was authority there nonetheless. 

“Uh…Pulcher,” Prompto squeaked like he had been unexpectedly called on in class. “We…uh…we’re…” 

“We are fostering him until the paperwork is completed to allow us to become his legal guardians,” Ignis explained. The moment the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. They had sounded so…sterile. He blamed his Court training, but there was still an uneasiness at the back of his mind. Would someone who truly wanted a child talk about them so clinically? 

“So you’re adoptin’ him,” Cindy summarized bluntly. Though it was a statement, her voice held the same question on Ignis’ mind. Then she let out a sigh and Ignis could picture her shaking her head. “It’s always somethin’ with you boys, isn’t it?” There followed the crunch of gravel and Ignis surmised Cindy must be kneeling now because when she spoke again her voice was more gentle than he had ever heard it before. He might even call it motherly. 

“Hey, hey there, Pulcher. The name’s Cindy. Now, I ain’t yer Mama, but I’m sure she would hate to see you carryin’ on like this if she were here. So let’s dry them eyes of yours. That’s better. Now,” Cindy lowered her voice to a stage whisper. As she did Ignis felt Prompto’s hand find his and nearly jumped at the contact. He hadn’t even registered his lover’s footsteps, he was so engrossed with what was unfolding before them. “I know you don’t know them two yet, but you can take it from me, if they’re going to be yer new Paws then you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. Prompto is sunshine in a bottle and Ignis, well he’s just about the smartest feller I ever did meet, except for my Paw-Paw a course. Nobody can replace yer folks, I know that. But somebody’s gotta bring you up now and you couldn’t ask for better than them two. Understand?” 

Pulcher must have nodded or he may have whispered a response, Ignis couldn’t be sure. Prompto’s hand was trembling in his now and squeezing. Ignis managed to shift his grip enough to twine their fingers together and squeezed back. 

“Now, how about some breakfast? You hungry?” There was the sound of crunching gravel again and then Cindy’s voice moving away, leading Pulcher to the diner. Prompto followed and Ignis merely let himself be tugged along behind him. 

Twenty minutes later Ignis was on his third cup of coffee and Pulcher was fast asleep in Cindy’s lap after she’d managed to get him to swallow half a stack of pancakes, which was far preferable to the dry toast Prompto had pleaded with him to eat that morning. 

“Thanks, Cindy,” Prompto whispered. He was leaning against Ignis slightly and the blind man only hoped he wasn’t about to fall asleep too. Someone needed to drive them home. If they were to have a repeat of the night before he would rather it be in their own home than in another motel. 

“Indeed. I had no idea you were so good with children,” Ignis said as he took another sip of hot liquid. 

“Shhh, don’t tell Holly,” Cindy whispered back and Ignis could practically hear the wink. “We had our fair share of little ones come through here during the Long Night you know. Some of them orphaned like this little guy. Lotta folks died trying to protect their kids.” 

Ignis couldn’t think of anything to say to that and focused his attention on running his thumb over a chip in the rim of his coffee mug instead. 

“Cindy…all that stuff you said before…did you really mean it?” Prompto asked. It had been years since Ignis had heard him sound so small, so uncertain. His hand dropped to the knee pressed against his and squeezed gently. 

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Cindy replied softly. “It’s hard growin’ up without yer folks. Even worse for these kids, with everything they saw…” She trailed off and Ignis heard a soft rustling. Nervous fingers shredding a napkin perhaps. “What you boys are doing for him, it’s a real good thing. I hope you know that.” 

“We know,” Prompto promised softly. The noise stopped. Prompto must have put his hand over Cindy’s. “We know,” Prompto said again.


	4. Chapter 4

Pulcher slept for most of the drive back to Lestallum and Prompto managed to keep the car in check for most of the way. Either the coffee or Cindy’s words had perked him up quite a bit, probably both. 

Ignis, however, only felt the weight in his stomach grow heavier the closer they got to home. Once they were there it would be real. They had already prepared their spare room, of course, but neither he nor Prompto had expected it to be used so soon. Vyv and Coctura had also been alerted that they would need some time off in the near future, but again it had felt like more of a hypothetical request. As they pulled into the parking lot and Prompto hopped out to begin unloading the trunk Ignis could only think of their front door. 

Once Pulcher crossed that threshold, it would be real. It hadn’t been quite real yet. Not at the Children’s Home or the motel or Hammerhead. It had been more like the time they’d spent with Talcott when he was young. Once Pulcher was in their home, however, there would be no denying their new responsibilities. 

Their new lives. 

Ignis let out a breath and popped his door opened, rousing Pulcher with a gentle shake and setting the groggy boy on his feet. 

“Where are we?” Pulcher asked. It was the loudest Ignis had ever heard him speak before. 

“We’re home, buddy. Well, almost,” Prompto said as he shut the trunk and handed Ignis his pack along with Pulcher’s plastic bag of belongings. “First there are the stairs. So many stairs. But you get used to them .Well…kinda.” 

The stairs between the parking lot and their small apartment seemed to have doubled in their absence, in fact, and soon enough Pulcher was whining that he was tired. And again Ignis found himself surprised. The boy sounded so…normal. He couldn’t help but wonder if part of that was Cindy’s doing, but, whatever the reason, it was a relief. 

Prompto scooped Pulcher up as soon as he complained and Ignis made a mental note not to let his lover spoil the child. Not in the future, anyway. For now, merely hearing Pulcher talk seemed like such a miracle that it surely deserved rewarding. 

Finally, they reached the metal staircase that led to their apartment above an apothecary run by a sweet old woman. There was a staircase inside as well, but it required going through the shop and by unspoken agreement Ignis and Prompto decided against using it for now. It seemed best to avoid introducing Pulcher to anyone else new today. 

Ignis sighed as they stepped into their apartment and hung his cane on the hook by the door. It was always a relief to be in a familiar space. He heard Prompto set Pulcher down and then the tearing of Velcro as he helped the boy take his shoes off. Ignis unlaced his own boots as he listened, trying to ignore the way Pulcher’s garbage bag crinkled when he set it down. He was looking forward to emptying it and being ride of the hated thing once and for all. 

Pulcher made no comment when they showed him to his room. It, like the rest of the apartment, was small and held a twin bed, a chest of drawers, and a mostly empty toy box that housed only a few gender neutral toys. Ignis began pulling items from the bag and folded Pulcher’s few sets of clothes on the bed while Prompto began babbling about how Pulcher could decorate the room any way he wanted. 

Pulcher had fallen silent as a statue once more and Ignis concentrated on the task of shorting shirts from pants and underclothes to distract himself. It wasn’t until his fingers closed on the last item in the bag, a particularly battered feeling stuffed animal of some sort, that Pulcher even made his presence in the room known. The boy gave a squeal that made Ignis jump and snatched the toy out of his hands before he even had a chance to react. 

“Mine!” Pulcher cried, suddenly defensive. 

“I wasn’t going to take it, Pulcher,” Ignis said evenly. “I was only unpacking.” 

“Mine,” Pulcher simply repeated. The mattress squeaked as Pulcher scrambled onto it and crawled away from Ignis, wedging himself into the corner at the head of the bed where two walls met. Ignis opened his mouth, but closed it again, letting his hands drop to his sides. He turned his head towards where he had last heard Prompto’s voice, silently pleading for help. 

“What’s his name?” Prompto asked without moving, as if trying not to startle a frightened animal. 

“Nee’les,” was Pulcher’s somewhat mumbled reply. Ignis wondered if he was lisping again or trying to talk with his thumb in his mouth. Maybe both. 

“Needles,” Prompto translated, and Ignis knew the blond’s next words were for his benefit. “That’s a good name for a cactuar. You know, we used to know another little boy that liked cactuars.” 

“Wha’ ‘abbened do ‘im?” Pulcher asked, definitely talking around his thumb now. 

“He grew up,” Ignis said simply. “You’ll meet him soon, more likely than not.” 

There didn’t seem much left to say after that, so Prompto put Pulcher’s folded clothes in their proper drawers while Ignis relished balling up the garbage bag and stuffing it into their own trash can. The rest of the night was a repeat of the night before it. Ignis ordered food from their favorite delivery place while Prompto gave Pulcher a bath. Pulcher didn’t eat much, but he didn’t complain either and soon enough he was in his new bed. 

“We don’t have a television in here, I’m afraid, but you can borrow this tonight,” Ignis said, offering Pulcher a tablet. Prompto had already pulled up a children’s movie on the streaming app. “And you can keep the lights on. The hall light too, if you like.” 

“Please,” Pulcher whispered. 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Prompto promised, and Ignis heard the soft smack of a kiss being laid on the boy’s forehead. Ignis himself just hovered by the bed, listening to the rustle of fabric as Prompto pulled the sheets up around the boy. 

“G’night…” Pulcher began and faltered for a moment. “Prom,” he finally said. Ignis suspected he couldn’t get his tongue around the rest of Prompto’s name, but he could practically feel the heat radiating off his lover’s smile at the use of the nickname and decided to keep his suspicion to himself. 

“G’night, Ig-I’nis.” Pulcher made a displeased huff as he stumbled over the name and Ignis felt the corners of his mouth turn up. Even without knowing the exact details of Pulcher’s face he could picture the little frown he must be wearing. 

“Iggy is fine,” he assured Pulcher. 

“Or…you know…’dad,’ or whatever,” Prompto put in quickly, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Ignis gave a dry swallow and suddenly found himself hoping Pulcher wasn’t ready. 

“Iggy,” Pulcher decided after a moment and Ignis barely caught himself before he let his relief show in his body language. 

“Good night, Pulcher,” he replied. 

“Night, little buddy,” Prompto chimed in. “You sure you don’t want to sleep with us? It’s okay if you do.” 

Pulcher must have shaken his head because Prompto let it drop and gave the boy another kiss before turning for the door. Ignis hesitated, finally gave Pulcher a pat on the shoulder that felt more awkward than doing nothing at all, and turned to follow his lover. 

“You know he’s going to end up in here anyway,” Ignis whispered as they retreated to their own bed. He almost left his glasses on again, but decided he’d rather not spend another night with the frames digging into the side of his head. 

“Maybe it was just the motel,” Prompto mumbled in reply, already snaking his limbs around Ignis, “being in a strange place, you know?” 

“This is a strange place, for him,” Ignis reminded him, but he wasn’t sure if Prompto heard him. His breathing was already slow and even on the back of Ignis’ neck. 

Sleep was pulling at Ignis too and the comfort of his own bed was growing too enticing to ignore. He had already left messages for both Vyv and Coctura letting them know that he and Prompto would be taking their time off effective tomorrow. Both would be understanding about the short notice, much as it nagged him. With no other duties to attend to, Ignis felt his consciousness fading. He took a final deep breath, delighting in the way Prompto’s arms tightened around his expanding chest reflexively, and finally surrendered to sleep. 

The screaming started up again shortly after midnight.

* * *

At least this time Pulcher hadn’t locked himself in the bathroom. Instead, they found him wedged in the corner at the top of his bed again. Once more it was Prompto who tried to comfort the boy, receiving several new scratches for his trouble, and Ignis who hung back. 

Or, Ignis hung back until Pulcher made himself sick all over his new bed. After that, Ignis had tasks to busy himself with once more: running a bath, washing Pulcher’s bedsheets and the borrowed T-shirt he’d been sleeping in, and finding fresh clothes for the boy to wear. By the time Prompto had gotten the boy into the water, he’d calmed down considerably and the warm bath seemed to help even more. Every now and then Ignis heard a tearful, “Sorry,” drift out of the bathroom, followed by Prompto’s endless supply of comforting words. The cycle repeated every few minutes until Ignis grew sure that Pulcher was apologizing more for being sick than anything else. 

Ignis made a mental note to stick to more bland suppers for Pulcher until his nightmares had settled to try and minimize the risk of upsetting his stomach. 

When Pulcher was dried and dressed once more in yet another old T-shirt, Prompto didn’t ask but brought him straight to the room he and Ignis shared. They settled beneath the covers and Prompto began to read, continuing the story of _Peter Pan_ that he had started in the motel room in Insomnia. Ignis listened from the door, one ear trained on the sheets tumbling in the dryer, feeling oddly like he was intruding even just by listening. When at last the dryer buzzed, he moved away to retrieve the clean sheets and remake Pulcher’s bed. 

He hesitated when he had tucked the last corner into place. He couldn’t hear Prompto’s voice anymore and could only assume the blond had fallen asleep again while reading. But was Pulcher asleep? And if he was, did Ignis want to risk waking him? 

He quickly decided he didn’t and turned towards the living room, ready to salvage what little sleep the night had left to offer on the couch. 

“Iggy?” a small voice stage-whispered down the hall. Ignis froze, with the utterly ridiculous feeling that he’d been caught stealing cookies or something of the sort. He turned, more for Pulcher’s benefit than his own. 

“Where you going?” Pulcher whispered. Ignis faltered at the question. Had the boy been…waiting for him? 

“I…did not wish to disturb you,” he finally managed. “I thought you were asleep.” 

“Jus’ Prom,” Pulcher replied solemnly. Ignis suddenly had the idea that the boy’s eyes must be quite striking just now, far too old and serious for a child of his age. “I sorry,” Pulcher continued after a moment. “I know dey’re jus’ dreams but…” His voice hitched as he trailed off and Ignis found himself kneeling before the child before he could think, desperate to keep the crying from starting up again. 

“Everyone has bad dreams, Pulcher,” he said softly, placing both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “It’s perfectly all right. They’ll fade with time, I promise.” 

Pulcher was quiet. Ignis felt worn fabric brush against his hand and realized Pulcher must be hugging his stuffed cactuar to his chest between them. There was an ache in Ignis’ own chest and for just a moment he wished he could take all of the boy’s fears onto himself. Because the things this boy was afraid of were things that only adults should have to worry about. 

“Is thad why you can’ see?” Pulcher asked and Ignis felt tiny fingers brush against the scar tissue stretched over his ruined left eye. He jerked back as if burned and felt his blood run icy, suddenly realizing for the first time in hours that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He rarely wore them at home, after all, so when they had been woken by Pulcher’s screams earlier he must have forgotten to grab them. 

Far from being scared, however, Pulcher merely sounded intrigued. 

“I have some doo,” he said. Ignis blinked his good eye, mind racing to find meaning behind that statement, but then Pulcher grabbed his wrist and pulled. Ignis let his hand go limp, allowing Pulcher to guide it down his scrawny leg and to the back of his knee. Ignis’ fingers felt rough, raised flesh and followed it down. One line became two and then three. Dragging claw marks that were no doubt an angry red against the boy’s pale skin. 

“Pulcher,” Ignis breathed, letting his hand curl loosely around the boy’s ankle. His finger and thumb met easily around the boney joint. 

“Daemons dried do grab me,” Pulcher explained, and that place in Ignis’ chest ached again to hear that word come out of such a small child. So they were claw marks. Probably from an imp or a goblin of some kind. “Bud my Daddy, my firs’ Daddy, saved me.” Ignis swallowed and somehow managed not to flinch when Pulcher’s pudgy fingers returned to the edge of his face. Pulcher stroked the edge of the old scar with a delicacy Ignis wouldn’t have expected from such a small child. 

“Did daemons hurd you doo?” 

Ignis reached up with his free hand and closed it over Pulcher’s, holding it against his face for a moment. The boy’s hand was cool against his skin. 

“Sometimes, people are worse than daemons,” Ignis said softly. He took a breath that only shook a little and gently pulled Pulcher’s hand away from his face. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he suggested gently, automatically reaching to pick the boy up as he moved to stand. 

“Whad if I wake you up again?” Pulcher nearly whimpered. He laid his head against Ignis’ shoulder without hesitation, however, and the former advisor had to clear his throat before he could form words again. 

“Then we’ll wake up, I imagine,” he said simply. “Is there enough light?” He pushed the bedroom door opened and waited until he felt Pulcher’s small head move against his chest in a nod. Only then did he make his way over to the bed, laying Pulcher down next to Prompto’s warm body before crawling in himself. 

Predictably, Prompto rolled in his sleep and reached for Ignis, fairly squishing Pulcher between them. 

“Prompto likes to cuddle,” Ignis whispered to Pulcher as though he were sharing a state secret. “Sometimes I swear he’s part gangly sea creature.” Prompto huffed in his sleep in unconscious protest and Pulcher giggled. The sound shot straight through Ignis’ chest, like a delicate wind chime in the aftermath of a storm. There wasn’t a person alive who wouldn’t smile at the sound of it, he was sure of it. He was smiling himself as he shushed the boy, just barely suppressing a laugh of his own. 

“Try and get some rest now,” Ignis suggested. 

“Okay,” Pulcher whispered back. 

Ignis lay so that he was facing Prompto, the photographer’s arm slung over his waist, with Pulcher curled between them. Despite his own exhaustion, Ignis stayed awake, listening to Pulcher’s quick rabbit-like breathing eventually slow and even out. 

He stayed awake for a while after that, listening to Prompto and Pulcher’s mingled breathing, and for the first time he thought he truly understood what had driven Prompto to take them down this path in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

Ignis was a famously early riser. Whether or not he was naturally a morning person had long ago become a moot point between the influences of caffeine and years of preparing morning reports for a fledgling prince. 

Now, a year since the Dawn, Ignis and Prompto had relaxed their schedules somewhat. Calls to deal with daemon threats were a thing of the past and, even had he been expected at work, Coctura did most of the morning prep work. Perhaps that was why, after two nights of disturbed sleep, Ignis did not awaken until the acrid scent of something burning dragged him from slumber. 

As he came awake, his instinct was to pull the body in his arms closer, until he suddenly registered that said body was much too small to be Prompto. His sightless eye fluttered opened and it was only by some unnamed instinct that he didn't shoot upright in his confusion. Instead, logic took over and he took stock of the familiar bed and the unfamiliar form in his arms, apparently that of a child. 

A child... 

Pulcher. 

Ignis let out a breath and relaxed back into the familiar mattress. He started to unwind his arms, but Pulcher made a soft noise that was almost a whimper and entirely too close to one of the pitiful noises Prompto sometimes made in his sleep. After that, Ignis found he had no choice but to leave his limbs where they were. He did, however, move his arm ever so slightly to feel the bed beyond Pulcher. Empty, and cold. Prompto had been up for some time, it seemed. 

It was then that he remembered what had woken him in the first place, but before he could attempt to get up once more, he heard the creak of their bedroom door and a soft huff from Prompto. 

"Aww, I wanted to wake you up," the blond pouted. "Oh well, at least you didn't get up, I guess." Ignis heard the faint rattle of plates on a tray and caught the unmistakable smell of coffee. 

"Good morning," he offered amiably enough, keeping his voice low. "I seem to be stuck at the moment." 

Prompto set the tray on the bedside table and leaned over to kiss the corner of Ignis' mouth. 

"Poor little guy," Prompto commented and then hummed, running an idle hand through Ignis’ unkempt hair. "You know...you looked really peaceful sleeping with him like that." 

"Am I to assume there is photographic evidence, then?" Ignis teased. Despite his flippant tone, Prompto's words had brought heat to his cheeks and he therefore remained on his side, facing away from his lover, in an attempt to hide the blush. 

"Who do you think I am?" Prompto snorted. "Of course there is. It was _adorable_ , Iggy." 

"Hmmm...Prom?" Pulcher mumbled groggily, turning his head to bury it in Ignis' chest. Ignis' hand moved to cradle the back of the boy's head as if of its own accord. 

"Oh shi—oot. I'm sorry, little buddy. Didn't mean to wake you. I made breakfast, though," Prompto said, the mattress bouncing a bit as he sat heavily on it. Pulcher stirred a bit more at the mention of food and rubbed his eyes, pulling back from Ignis to peek around him at the tray Prompto had brought in. 

"I thought I smelled something burning," Ignis said, finally releasing Pulcher now that he was awake and sitting up. He didn't even flinch when Prompto pinched his thigh through the sheets. 

"I made chocolate-chip pancakes and I only burned the one, thanks, all because SOMEBODY has a fancy coffee press thing and I got distracted." Ignis bit his lip to keep from smiling. If he laughed at Prompto now there was a very real chance that the blond would ban him from having any of the food he'd made. 

It had happened before. 

"Thank you, Love," he said instead, reaching out to find Prompto's hand and squeezing it gently. "That coffee does smell divine." 

Prompto grumbled something under his breath but handed Ignis his mug all the same. Ignis sipped slowly, both to savor the flavor and avoid burning his tongue. It was only as he drank that he realized that Pulcher had been sitting quietly at his side this entire time. 

"Do you want your pancakes, Pulcher? I have no doubt Prompto made you a few rather rotund chocobo-shaped ones and at least one lopsided cactuar." That comment earned him another pinch and this time Ignis did laugh. 

"You know what?" Prompto growled, and Ignis wished he could see just how red he'd made his lover. 

"Are...are you figh'ing?" Pulcher interrupted them with an uncertain whisper. His voice was muffled, the words probably spoken into Needles' head. 

Ignis and Prompto both froze and then, as one, began to laugh. 

"Fighting?" Ignis repeated, smiling warmly at the boy. "Good heavens, no." 

"We just like to give each other a hard time,” Prompto reassured him and moved the tray to Ignis’ lap. Setting his coffee aside, Ignis automatically located the knife and fork and began cutting the lopsided stack of pancakes into bit-sized pieces before passing the fork to Pulcher. Pulcher’s fingers lingered against his for a moment before taking the fork. Ignis could practically feel the intensity of the child’s gaze. 

“How…?” Pulcher began. 

“Did I do that without looking?” Ignis asked, picking up his coffee mug once more. He turned enough to wink at Pulcher with his good eye. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” Pulcher didn’t respond, and the scrape of metal against ceramic told Ignis that he’d opted for eating in place of talking. 

“Speaking of surprises…” Prompto began with a sheepish lilt to his voice. Ignis resisted the urge to sigh. 

“I should have known an early breakfast would come with strings attached,” he muttered. 

“Vyv got your message. He knows I’m on leave,” Prompto blurted. “It’s not his fault. I just…forgot to drop off a flash drive? I’ll be gone twenty minutes, tops.” 

“And you thought to buy your way into my good graces by scorching pancake batter onto my pans?” Ignis retorted. There wasn’t any heat behind the words but Prompto would know he was irritated. If he was honest with himself he was more than that. He was scared. What was he supposed to do with a four-year-old boy on his own? 

As if reading his mind, Prompto chimed in. “The pan is already soaking, and I said I was sorry. I already have a movie all set up for this little guy in the living room. You just have to push play. I’ll be back before the third song’s over, I promise.” 

“And now you’re going to subject me to a children’s movie with singing?” Ignis asked, incredulous. He was already leaning over the tray towards his lover, however. “Talk about adding insult to injury.” 

“You’re going to have to get used to it sooner or later,” Prompto said, his voice dropping until it was nearly sultry. “Probably a good idea to just rip the bandaid off on that one.” 

Soft lips met Ignis’, tinged with the lingering sweetness of syrup. Prompto must have eaten his share of pancakes before bringing them their own. 

“I suppose you’re forgiven,” Ignis sighed as they broke apart. 

“Not like you could stay mad at me if you wanted to,” Prompto teased. Ignis shook his head slightly and leaned in to steal another kiss, only to jump as Pulcher suddenly made a noise of disgust beside him. The boy had been so quiet he’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone. 

“Gross. Kissin’,” Pulcher mumbled around a mouthful of pancake to no one in particular. Ignis blinked his good eye sightlessly at Prompto, and then they both burst out laughing.

* * *

Prompto had been gone for over half an hour and Ignis was busy scrubbing his burned pot when he heard Pulcher slip off the couch, evidently as bored as Ignis was with the movie Prompto had selected. It was the twinkle of glass more than Pulcher's sudden cry that made Ignis jump. He was growing used to the boy's unexpected outbursts, but glass meant danger. 

"Don't move." The order was out of his mouth before he could stop it, harsher than he had intended. But the fact was that he couldn't see what had happened and had no idea if Pulcher had cut himself or was about to. The sound could only mean that the boy had knocked over one of Prompto's framed pictures. 

His tone, however, had been less than ideal and in seconds Pulcher began to bawl. Ignis dropped the pan back into a sink full of warm, soapy water and hastily dried his hands on a dish towel. He trailed his fingers along the counter, subconsciously counting steps as he made his way out of the kitchen to the low table where Prompto kept a few framed pictures. There were four, if Ignis remembered correctly. One of himself and Prompto against a sunset that was still new after the Dawn, after they had begun to overcome their grief enough to move on. One of Ignis' restaurant on opening day, which Ignis only tolerated because Prompto kept insisting how good the morning light was reflected on the cafe's windows (Ignis suspected he was embellishing somewhat). One of what Ignis remembered as a rather breathtaking view from the highest point of the city of Altissia the day before a raging Astral had flooded half the town. 

And one shot of the four of them from their ill-fated, long ago road trip. 

"Are you hurt?" Ignis asked over Pulcher's wails, trying to keep his voice more even. Only more sobbing answered him. He stuck a hand out, waving it back and forth through the air until he felt the edge of a small, bony shoulder. He grabbed hold and pulled Pulcher back towards him. The boy stumbled the few steps back, away from the shattered picture frame, obediently enough. 

Immediately, Ignis began to run his hands over the boy, fingers mapping the bend of his arms and then dropping to explore his coltish legs and bare feet. No glass, no cuts, no blood. 

With his heart finally dropping out of his throat, Ignis breathed a sigh of relief and let his arms encircle Pulcher instead. It was only a light hug, loose enough that the boy could easily break free if he wanted. Pulcher, however, only kept his hands plastered over his face as he cried. 

"Hush, you're all right," Ignis murmured gently, rubbing Pulcher's back. 

"I...I...jus' wan'ed...I-I'm s-s-sorry," Pulcher hiccuped, the words a garbled mess in the midst of his tears. 

"Shhh," Ignis tried to sooth him, tightening his hold a bit, but Pulcher was just as worked up as he was after a nightmare. Completely inconsolable. 

"D-don..." he tried and then choked as he gulped in a hitching gasp of air. 

"You're going to make yourself sick," Ignis warned gently. "Breathe slowly. You're all right." Pulcher's crying became more stilted as he struggled to obey. He was nothing if not obedient, almost obsessively so, now that Ignis thought about it. Slowly, very slowly, Pulcher seemed to gain control of himself, his sobs trailing off into sniffles and the occasional hiccup. 

"Don'...don' send me back," Pulcher finally whispered. Ignis' hand froze where it was rubbing circles on Pulcher's back. 

"What?" he asked, pulling back enough for Pulcher to see his face. "Pulcher, what did you say?" 

"Don'...send me back?" Pulcher whimpered, his voice lilting up to turn the reprisal into a question. 

"Pulcher..." Ignis whispered. And suddenly it made sense. They'd been warned, hadn't they, that he had been returned to the Children’s Home before? He had wondered, for days now, why a boy of only four would be so eager to please and so distressed when he did anything that he thought might upset his new guardians. 

To Pulcher, this must all be some sort of test. One he couldn’t help failing in one way or another, because no one was perfect. 

"Oh, no," Ignis whispered and suddenly he was fairly crushing the boy against him, hugging him with a desperation he'd never felt before. "No, Pulcher, we would never do that." 

"Bud...bud I..." 

"It was only a frame. It can be replaced," Ignis said, burying his nose in Pulcher's hair. It smelled of lavender from his own shampoo. They hadn't gotten the boy his own yet. "You, on the other hand, cannot be. What's more important is that you’re all right." 

For several moments all he could do was hug the boy to him, feeling the tiny body in his arms still trembling lightly with the aftershocks of crying. When he felt he could bear it, he leaned back again to "look him in the eye," so to speak. 

"Pulcher. Listen carefully. This is _your_ home too, now—that is, if you want it to be," he found himself adding hastily. "We would never send you away. For any reason. Do you understand?" 

Silence stretched between them and Ignis couldn't tell if it was because Pulcher was too nervous to answer or had only bobbed his head. 

"You have to say it out loud, remember?" he coaxed gently, tapping his glasses for emphasis. Pulcher gave a mighty sniff and Ignis felt his arm come up between them, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

"...Okay," Pulcher whispered. The remaining uncertainty was heartbreaking, but it would take more than words for Pulcher to trust them. At least now they knew what the problem was and could go about fixing it. 

Pulcher stayed practically glued to Ignis' side for the rest of the afternoon. Once Prompto returned, nearly an hour behind schedule, the photographer cleaned up the broken glass and took his turn assuring Pulcher there was no damage done that a new frame wouldn't fix. Just as with Ignis, however, Pulcher's responses were halfhearted at best. 

After a rather bland dinner of plain chicken soup, they settled once more into what was becoming their nightly routine. It wasn’t until Pulcher was settled in his bath, however, that Ignis found a moment to tug Prompto away for a quick word. 

“Don’t splash too much,” Prompto instructed as he let Ignis pull him into their bedroom and close the door behind them. “What’s up?” 

“He’s afraid we’re going to send him back,” Ignis said with no preamble. Prompto stiffened under his touch immediately. 

“What, to the Children’s Home? He said that?” Prompto hissed with the effort of keeping his voice low. 

“Yes. Earlier, when he broke the picture. He was petrified, Prompto.” There was the soft sound of skin on skin as Prompto dragged his hand over his face. 

“Jeeze, Iggy. No wonder he’s always apologizing for everything.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Ignis murmured back. 

“You told him we’d never do that, right?” Prompto asked suddenly and Ignis felt anger bubble in his chest despite himself. 

“Of course I did. Do you really take me to be so heartless?” he retorted hotly. He moved to turn away from his lover, but Prompto caught his shoulder and tugged him back, wrapping his arms around Ignis. 

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I know…” Prompto struggled and trailed off. 

“This may not have been my idea, but do you really think I would have gone along with you this far if I truly objected to raising a child with you?” Ignis huffed. A small, guilty part of him didn’t blame Prompto at all for doubting him. But that part was drowned out by hot indignation. All he had to do was reimagine the fear that spiked his heart when he’d heard that glass break to know that he cared for Pulcher. More deeply and more quickly than he ever might have guessed. 

“I’m sorry,” Prompto said again. He sighed as he laid his head on Ignis’ chest. “So what do we do now?” 

Ignis considered the question, finally letting his own arms come up to return Prompto’s hug. He dropped his chin onto Prompto’s head and closed his good eye. 

”We make sure he knows he belongs here. That’s all we can do,” he murmured. Prompto’s head shifted against him as he nodded. They stood like that for a moment more before Prompto reluctantly pulled away. 

“I better get back and make sure he hasn’t tried to give Needles a bath again or something,” Prompto said. Ignis nodded, but let his fingers catch on Prompto’s shirt until the blond had pulled out of his grasp completely. When Prompto’s voice drifted to him from the bathroom he sighed and went to turn down Pulcher’s bed, feeling oddly cold. 

After a bath and stories between traded showers, they had Pulcher tucked into his own bed and Prompto offered once more for the boy to spend the night with them. It was an offer that Pulcher once again refused. In light of the afternoon's revelation, Ignis was sure it was out of a misguided attempt not to be a burden on them. Quite frankly, however, they all needed a good night's sleep. 

"Pulcher," Ignis said, seating himself on the edge of Pulcher's twin mattress. "Do you know what a sleepover is?" 

There was a rustle of fabric and then Pulcher made a noise that was nearly a squeak and said quickly, "Sorry. I mean, no." Ignis bit back a smile, knowing the boy had caught himself after merely shaking his head in response. 

"Sometimes, on special occasions, friends all sleep in the same room together. They're actually quite fun." 

"You've never had a sleepover in your life, have you?" Prompto muttered, but Ignis ignored him. He had spent many nights with Noct as children, as a matter of fact, never mind the countless nights the four of them had spent together a decade ago. But now wasn’t the time to argue that point. 

"Like how you and Prom share a bed?" Pulcher asked. Prompto snorted but Ignis managed to hold his own chuckle in to spare the child's pride. 

"Something like that, yes, except we do that all the time so it's not very special, is it? But if you joined us...well, that would be a different matter altogether." Ignis waited patiently for Pulcher to consider this, crossing his knees and then folding his hands atop them. 

"Can I bring dis?" Pulcher asked and tapped the cool plastic edge of the tablet against Ignis' arm to show him what he meant. Ignis smiled, both at the request and at the gesture. 

"Of course. It's customary to watch movies at a sleepover, though Prompto is more of an authority on the subject than I am." 

"Yeah," Prompto choked. He sounded as though he was close to hurting himself with suppressed laughter. Ignis gave him a casual elbow to the ribs. 

"Okay," Pulcher said at last, throwing back his covers to crawl out of his bed and lead the way down the hall. They were halfway through yet another children's film when Pulcher's breathing began to grow slow and even. (Ignis had tried to save himself from more singing by suggesting a nature documentary, but had been outvoted.) Prompto let the video play for ten minutes more before shutting down the tablet and setting it on the bedside table. 

"You know," Prompto whispered as he burrowed down into the mattress, "that picture he knocked over was the one with all four of us...I think he was just trying to get a better look." 

Ignis gave a hum and let his arm drape over the small, bony form between them. Pulcher fit against his chest as if he had been made to be there, the same way the difference in height between himself and Prompto allowed for the blond to perfectly tuck his head beneath Ignis' chin. Soon, Prompto's warm arms covered his own, snaking around Ignis middle. 

"It's only natural that he would be curious," Ignis observed. A few of Pulcher's hairs tickled his chin as he talked and Ignis swallowed. In the years since he'd lost his sight he'd grown accustomed to identifying new people in a variety of ways. By their voices certainly, but also by certain smells or the odd bits of information he could pick up through touch. For the first time in ages, however, he felt like he was desperately missing a key piece of information. 

It wasn't unlike how he felt when he feared he was beginning to forget the specific constellations that Prompto's freckles painted on his cheeks. 

"Prompto...what does Pulcher look like?" 

"Hmm?" came Prompto's sleepy reply. The blond sounded as though he had been ready to drop off. For a long moment he said nothing and Ignis assumed he had fallen asleep after all. Then Prompto shifted, one arm pulling back to prop himself up on his elbow, presumably to look down at the boy sleeping between them. 

"Well...his hair is—what do you call it?—dirty blond I guess? You know, like, still blond but darker than mine." Ignis nodded to show that he did, in fact, know. He let the fingers of his left hand run through Pulcher's downy hair, hair that he now knew was the color of aging hay. 

"He doesn't have any freckles, but he's also really pale. They might still show up as he gets older and gets more sun," Prompto continued, sounding more sure of himself as he went. "And his eyes, Iggy. His eyes are huge and this kind of foresty green. Actually they look just like..." Prompto suddenly trailed off and shifted again, pulling his arm away from Ignis entirely now. 

Ignis grabbed his hand before he could retract it altogether and squeezed gently. 

"It's all right. You can say it. Green like mine used to be?" he supplied gently. It wasn't a sore subject. Life went on. But Prompto usually avoided bringing up reminders of what Ignis had lost whenever he could. Ignis tugged at the hand in his grasp, drawing it closer to press his lips against his lover's knuckles. He needed Prompto to know that all was forgiven. That there was nothing to forgive. 

"Yeah," Prompto finally whispered. "Just like yours. Actually, it's weird but he kinda looks a bit like both of us. I know that's weird..." 

"It's not weird," Ignis countered. "Truthfully, he reminds me a great deal of you, but of me as well. We're both guilty of setting our own needs aside to please others, after all." Ignis sighed, a bit sadly, and ran his fingers through Pulcher's hair again. "I have a feeling we are going to need to be very careful with him," he said quietly. "After everything he's been through, he's going to want to please us more than anything, and I'm afraid he may not be nearly as vocal about his own needs." 

"That's so messed up," Prompto whispered, flopping back onto the pillows and twining his arms with Ignis' once more. "He's a kid. Kids are supposed to be selfish. They're _allowed_." 

"Indeed. I think, more than anything, he's afraid. Terrified, in fact." 

"Then it's our job to make him feel safe here," Prompto vowed, echoing Ignis’ earlier sentiment. He leaned over Pulcher to press his forehead to Ignis'. "We have to let him know that there's nothing to be afraid of here." 

Ignis nodded but didn’t say anything else. _‘It will be interesting, to see who he grows into. I'm not even sure he knows what will be left once the fear is stripped away,’_ he thought, trying in vain to picture a Pulcher that laughed freely and talked enough to rival Prompto. 

"You were really good with him today, Iggy, you know that?" Prompto murmured. "I know I'm the one that pushed for this and...I guess, especially after that first night, I was kinda afraid you were gonna regret it." 

"And now you think otherwise?" Ignis asked. A smile pulled at his lips, but if he was being honest with himself he had harbored just as much doubt in himself as Prompto did. "I'll admit it, I find myself surprised by how easily he's..." 

"Fit into place?" Prompto supplied. "Like a piece you didn't know was missing?" 

Ignis smiled gently and tipped his chin up to lay a kiss on Prompto's nose. 

"It's not unlike the way I felt after the first time I kissed you," Ignis said with an air of confession. "As though suddenly I'd found something I never knew I'd lost." 

"That's how I feel too," Prompto whispered with a suspicious catch in his voice. A moment later Ignis' suspicions were confirmed when he pressed his free hand against his lover's damp cheek. 

"Prom..." he whispered. 

"Sorry," Prompto sniffled. "I just...I never thought I'd get this lucky, you know? Even after everything that happened I was always half expecting you guys to find a reason to leave me behind, eventually. But you didn't, and _you_ didn't, and okay so it does hurt that Noct's not here to see it but the rest...the rest is better than anything I ever imagined. It's better than anything a lonely, fat little kid ever thought he deserved." Prompto sniffled loudly. "And if there's anything I want, it's just for Pulcher to never feel that way, you know?" His voice finally cracked and Prompto had to clamp one of his hands over his mouth to muffle a sudden sob. 

Pulcher shifted restlessly between them, but mercifully didn't wake. Ignis, meanwhile, wrapped both of his arms around Prompto and drew him as close as he could with a child sleeping between them. 

"I know, love, I know," he murmured rubbing soothing circles into Prompto's back. "He may have had a rocky start, but Pulcher's with us now and we can give him everything neither of us had. I promise you." 

Prompto nodded wordlessly and clung to Ignis like he was driftwood in a storm. The worst of it only lasted a few minutes, however, and soon Prompto was more sniveling than sobbing, and not long after that he had subsided into a fitful but exhausted sleep. 

Ignis, meanwhile, continued stroking his hair and murmuring endearments until his own eyelids began to droop. He fell asleep that way, cradling his lover and new child safe in his arms. 

To his surprise, it wasn't terrified screams that eventually woke him up, but birdsong.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Prompto took Pulcher to buy a proper set a pajamas and a new wardrobe. Ignis remained behind, going over the apartment and rearranging fragile items in an attempt to avoid a repeat of the disaster of the day before. And if Prompto and Pulcher returned with considerably more toys than clothes, Ignis didn’t point it out. It was hard to when Pulcher commenced to say more in one sitting than he had since Ignis had met him, “showing”: Ignis each toy in turn by describing it and putting it in Ignis’ hands. 

All in all he had two new stuffed animals, a set of blocks, three puzzles and several other small plastic figures to fill his toy box. 

In the week that followed, they fell into a routine much more easily than Ignis might have expected them to. Each morning they ate breakfast and then Prompto would read a bit to Pulcher while Ignis did the dishes. Once they finished _Peter Pan_ he moved on to a series of other children’s books that more often than not centered around anthropomorphized animals. They would then find a movie to put on which Pulcher never managed to finish before lapsing into a nap, sometimes curled in a corner of the couch by himself but often propped up against Ignis or Prompto. The afternoon, following a light lunch of sandwiches, would be spent mostly in solitary play. Occasionally Prompto tried to insinuate himself into whatever imaginary plot Pulcher was acting out with his toys, but the boy still shied away from the attention. At the end of the day, Ignis would prepare a bland meal and, after a bath, they would once again find an excuse to entice Pulcher into sleeping in their bed. 

Both Ignis and Prompto knew that Pulcher couldn’t sleep with them forever, and Pulcher, for his part, never agreed to it when asked outright. But keeping him close kept the nightmares at bay, or at least seemed to lessen the depth of their terror, and neither Prompto nor Ignis were willing to put the boy through more trauma. 

In no time at all, Pulcher had been staying with them for just over two weeks. As Pulcher had successfully slept through the night for four days in a row, Ignis broke his usual bland food rule and made Prompto’s favorite curry to celebrate, and was delighted to find that Pulcher seemed to enjoy it just as much as the blond photographer did. 

And just as had happened so very many times before, Ignis had no warning that his life was about to be cracked opened. 

“I’m done,” a small voice interrupted Prompto’s stream of chatter about what pictures he was planning for a piece Vyv was preparing about the “aftermath of the Long Night.” 

“I still see some green on your plate,” Prompto teased gently, and Ignis heard the gentle scrape of a fork against porcelain. “You have to eat all your vegetables if you want to grow up big and strong. And if you want dessert,” he added. Ignis could almost hear the wink. 

“But they’re icky!” Pulcher exclaimed with a sound that could only mean he was sticking his tongue out. 

An icy fist wrapped around Ignis’ heart before he could think. He stood suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor. 

“Please excuse me,” he muttered and fled. In seconds he was out of the kitchen and pressed against the wall of the hallway that lead to the two small bedrooms. One hand came up to cover his mouth while he breathed hard through his nose. 

In another time, in another life, he could hear a nanny admonishing a little boy. 

_“Your Highness, please, you must eat your vegetables.”  
_

_“No. They’re icky.”_

Ignis squeezed his good eye closed against the moisture that threatened to pool there. He forced himself to take another deep breath. Pulcher would think he’d done something wrong again, and that was hardly fair. Many children disliked vegetables, Ignis knew. It wasn’t Pulcher’s fault that that phrase meant so much more to him than it should. 

He jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Truth be told, however, he was grateful for the distraction. Clearing his throat, he withdrew the phone and answered with practiced ease. There had been a time when he’d had a tendency to aim too high when swiping his thumb across the screen to answer, but those days were long behind him now. 

“Hello?” he greeted. 

“Hello, Mr. Scientia?” a familiar female voice answered. “This is Robyn from the Insomnia Children’s Home.” 

“Yes, hello. How are you?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she replied with the dismissive hurry of a person who is rather too flustered for pleasantries. Ignis’ felt his muscles tensing again. There were footsteps and he knew that Prompto had come to check on him. Ignis held up a hand for his lover to wait. “I was calling about…well…” 

Ignis didn’t like the way she trailed off. He didn’t like it at all. 

“Is there something we can do to help you?” he asked. His heart had picked up speed and he closed his good eye again. _‘It’s paperwork,’_ he thought. _‘It must be a problem of paperwork. There’s no government oversight for foster care or adoptions right now. That must be it.’_

“I was just working on finalizing your adoption paperwork for Pulcher,” she explained. It was all Ignis could do not to sigh in relief. 

_‘There. You see?´_ he thought, trying to force his heartbeat to return to a more normal rate. 

“I thought that was all taken care of,” he said as evenly as he could. 

“Well, mostly,” Robyn replied, a bit too quickly he noticed. “The way it works—well, through trial and error we’ve discovered it’s best to leave a grace period of sorts. The paperwork you and your partner signed made you Pulcher’s foster parents for the next month. Barring any complications, that status becomes full legal guardianship at the end of that 30 day period.” Ignis vaguely remembered the grace period from their meeting, but it hadn’t seemed like a problem then. He was suddenly very angry at himself for being blind. If he’d been able to read the damned paperwork himself he wouldn’t feel like she was about to say something he’d missed. Years of circumnavigating court documents had made him quite fluent in legalese, after all. 

“I see,” he said slowly, sensing there was something else to come. “Has something…come up, then?” 

There was silence on the other end of the line for exactly five seconds. Ignis’ blood couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to turn to ice or molten metal during the small hell contained in the eternity of those five seconds. 

“We’ve been contacted by a woman claiming to be Pulcher’s Aunt. His father’s sister,” Robyn finally said, all in a rush. Ignis free hand groped the wall beside him blindly and he was all too relieved when Prompto took the hint and twined warm fingers with his own. 

“We have to legitimize her claim, of course, but, well…she’s interested in custody,” Robyn continued. Was she speaking more quickly or was Ignis simply having trouble hearing her? She continued on, saying something about how they strove to keep families together whenever possible, but then the phone was slipping from Ignis’ lax fingers to clatter against the floorboards. Numbly, he slipped down the wall to sit beside it.

* * *

“Read it to me again,” Ignis demanded. Somehow they’d gotten Pulcher bathed and ready for bed, though Ignis couldn’t say how. Perceptive as ever, Pulcher had been quieter than he’d been since first coming to stay with them and hadn’t even protested when, for the first time, neither Prompto nor Ignis tried to give him a reason to share their bed. He had said good night rather soberly and Ignis was already planning Tenebrean toast tomorrow morning as an apology, but just now he _needed_ to know exactly what they had signed. Every letter. 

“I’ve read it three times already,” Prompto grumbled, and the fluttering of paper told him that his lover had thrown the contract down on the bed in disgust. “What does it matter, Iggy? Nobody expected someone to show up _now_. Who shows up now?!” 

Ignis snatched up the papers, though only for a moment, as though holding them himself would make a difference. But of course it didn’t, and it was the struggle of a few moments to simply let them fall from his fingers again instead of crumpling them into a ball. 

“Where was she a year ago?” Prompto continued. He was pacing. Ignis could hear the scuff of his socks on the carpet and the subtle difference in his voice as he turned to face Ignis, now turned away. “If she cared so damn much, where was she then?” 

“Now…” Ignis said, drawing the word out with a long sigh. He pulled his glasses off to massage his ruined eye. He was beginning to develop a terrific headache just behind it. “That’s perhaps unfair,” he admitted quietly. “We don’t know anything about her.” 

“Neither does Pulcher!” Prompto exploded. “I asked him.” 

“You what?” Ignis asked, head shooting up. Of course Pulcher had known something was wrong, but Ignis hadn’t said anything. Not directly. There wasn’t any reason to alarm him just yet. 

“In the bath, while you were cleaning up dinner,” Prompto said carelessly. “I asked if he had an Aunt and he said no.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t believe it means much that he either never met her or doesn’t remember her. Families were separated all the time back then,” Ignis said. He breathed through his nose to try and ease the pain in his head a bit before adding, “And I don’t think we should discuss this with Pulcher yet.” 

“But—” Prompto began, but Ignis cut him off. 

“If her claim is legitimate we will no doubt have to go back to Insomnia and sort it out, but until then there’s no reason to scare him. This woman, whoever she is, may be mistaken. And even if she isn’t…” Ignis dropped his hand and used it to push himself up from his perch on the edge of the mattress. He ignored the vertigo that swept through him at the change in position as best he could. “In any case, the decision isn’t Pulcher’s to make and it won’t do to worry him over it, should it come to that.” 

“But shouldn’t it be? I mean, it’s his life,” Prompto protested. His voice had gotten quieter, Ignis noticed. He must have winced as he stood. Carefully he made his way around the bed, headed for the bathroom and his migraine medicine. 

“Pulcher is four. We have to do what’s best for him,” Ignis gritted out, more than physical pain making the words stick in his throat. “Now, I think that’s enough for tonight. My head feels ready to split open as it is.” 

Even after downing the medication, the pain kept Ignis awake long into the night. For once, Prompto slept with his back to his lover, curled in on himself like a child. And between them lay a gaping hole that a small, warm body usually occupied. Despite the rushing sound of his own blood in his ears, Ignis found himself straining for any sound from Pulcher’s room. 

No noise ever came, however, and Ignis’ last thought before finally drifting off was to be disgusted with himself for his own disappointment that Pulcher was apparently sleeping just fine without them. 

When Ignis awoke the pain hadn’t gone entirely but had pulled back to a dull throbbing. The mattress beside him was cool. Pushing his dark glasses on to help block out the little light that his less damaged eye could still detect, he stumbled out of bed towards Pulcher’s room. 

He heard them before he actually reached the door and so wasn’t surprised when he groped his way to the narrow bed and found Prompto taking up most of it, the little boy cradled in his arms. 

“I don’t think he slept at all last night,” Prompto reported quietly. Ignis sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and ran a searching hand over the two of them until he found Pulcher’s feather-soft hair. 

_‘So,’_ he thought, _‘Not a lack of nightmares but a lack of trying.’_

“Poor baby,” Prompto coed, kissing Pulcher’s head beside Ignis’ fingers. Pulcher shifted under Ignis’ hand, tilting his head up. 

“Wa’s wrong?” he asked, voice tired and just on the cusp of cranky. Despite his age, Ignis had hardly ever heard that edge of defiance in Pulcher’s tone. Most parents would probably be annoyed but all he could feel at the moment was triumphant. 

“Nothing, darling,” Ignis said quickly, before Prompto could answer. A small hand reached up to grip Ignis’ wrist and Ignis let it tug his hand out of Pulcher’s hair. He remained quiet as Pulcher held his hand, sensing the boy was working up the courage to say something. He felt the small, slightly sticky fingers fidget against his palm. 

“I know somethin’s wrong,” Pulcher said slowly. “My firs’ Mama and Daddy did this doo. God quiet. Please…jus’ dell me. Did I do somethin’?” 

‘No,” Prompto whispered. Ignis felt him move to curl around Pulcher more securely. “You haven’t done anything, Pul. You’re perfect. We’re the ones who—” 

“No one has done anything wrong,” Ignis cut across his lover. With all their attention focused on Pulcher lately it was easy to forget Prompto’s own tendency towards self-deprecation. Ignis laid down behind Prompto on the little strip of mattress that was left, wrapping his arm around both of them. 

“Something has come up, yes, but we don’t know yet if it’s anything to be worried about.” Pulcher sniffled, clearly unsatisfied with such a vague answer and seemed on the verge of saying more when Ignis heard his phone ringing in the master bedroom. 

“Excuse me,” he muttered as he pushed himself up, his stomach already dropping as he made his way towards the ringing.


	7. Chapter 7

They were in a rented car speeding towards Insomnia in less than an hour, following a hasty breakfast that all three of them merely picked at. Still without a booster seat, Ignis sat with Pulcher in his lap once more. Where before the arrangement had been awkward, now he took full advantage of hugging the boy to him and pressing his face into Pulcher’s hair. 

Prompto had wanted to wait, to keep Pulcher with them for as long as possible. Ignis felt the same, but he also wanted this business done with and had succeeded in convincing Prompto they had to make the journey today, in no small part because he’d already scheduled an appointment with Robyn and this newly surfaced Aunt for that afternoon. 

Now Prompto was driving in silence. He was sulking, but Ignis let him. Better he get it out now, before they arrived, anyway. Pulcher wasn’t in a much better mood. He had come dangerously, wonderfully close to saying ‘No’ when Ignis tried to get him into the car. But he couldn’t quite do it and ended up in Ignis’ lap anyway. Now, only twenty minutes into their journey, he had fallen asleep with his little hands fisted tightly in Ignis’ shirt. 

They would cause wrinkles, but Ignis couldn’t seem to care. Instead he stroked the boy’s back and found himself absently humming stray snippets of songs that came into his head. They were almost halfway to Insomnia before he suddenly understood what he was doing with a jolt like being doused in cold water. 

He was trying to stamp every moment into his memory. The smell of lavender shampoo in Pulcher’s hair, the feel of his warm weight in Ignis’ arms, the soft breath puffing against his chest. Meanwhile, his hands were wandering of their own accord, mapping out every detail that his eyes couldn’t see. He was trying to put Pulcher in a little capsule that he could keep forever, should the worst happen. 

It was the same thing he had done while camping that last night with Noctis. 

His stomach roiled, but luckily he hadn’t eaten enough at breakfast to actually be sick. Instead he breathed in another unsteady breath against Pulcher’s head. 

“Hey,” Prompto whispered, finally breaking his self-imposed silence. Ignis felt a calloused hand take his and he squeezed it tightly, desperately. “It’s going to be alright.” 

“You don’t know that,” Ignis whispered back, squeezing harder. Was he starting to shake? He swallowed hard and focused on regaining control of himself. 

The crunch of gravel replaced the smooth glide of pavement and then the car stopped with only a light squeal of breaks. Prompto leaned and then practically crawled over the center console to wrap his arms around Ignis. 

“We’re not going to lose him.” Prompto whispered fiercely. “This isn’t like last time. We’re not going towards our doom.” So Prompto had been thinking about it too. Marching into Insomnia with Noctis to fight the impossible, knowing with ever step that even if they survived, Noctis would not. 

“It feels the same,” Ignis managed to choke out. The words seemed to claw their way out of him and his dry throat clicked when he tried to swallow afterwards. 

“No,” Prompto said simply, kissing Ignis’ temple. “No. We’re his parents and we’re going to show them that. They’ll see he belongs with us. I know it.” 

A million objections flew thorough Ignis’ mind, but he quashed them all. Prompto was right. At the very least, they needed to go in believing they could win. 

“All right,” he finally whispered, giving a small nod. He cleared his throat and reached up rub his good eye behind his glasses, though it had somehow remained dry. 

“Alright,” Prompto echoed. He squeezed Ignis and kissed his cheek once more before retreating back to the driver’s seat. 

“We’re about an hour out,” he said as he popped the car back into gear. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Ignis didn’t remember the Insomnia Children’s Home feeling quiet so sterile, but Robyn had told them last time that they tried not to actually keep any children here, preferring to place them with families as soon as possible. Still, the way their steps echoed made it feel more like a mausoleum than a place for children. Ignis carried Pulcher in his arms with the boy’s small, new backpack slung over one shoulder. Pulcher hadn’t wanted to walk and Ignis didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Is that him?” a woman’s voice cried suddenly and Ignis stopped in his tracks. “Oh Pulcher, look how big you’ve gotten!” 

Ignis felt Pulcher turn his head to look over his shoulder at the new woman before quickly burying his face in Ignis’ shirt once more. 

“He’s a bit shy around strangers,” Ignis explained woodenly. 

“Oh,” the woman said, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “Of course…he must not remember me. He was only a newborn when Felix got the harebrained idea to go to Old Lestallum. Said he’d heard it was safer.” Ignis had learned over the years to base first impressions on voices rather than faces and he liked this voice. It was lilting and carefree and a bit like what he had glimpsed in Pulcher now and then when the boy was at last comfortable enough to let his walls down. 

He hated that he liked her voice. 

“Who is dat?” Pulcher whispered. Instead of answering, Ignis knelt and set Pulcher on the floor, gently pushing his backpack into his hands. 

“Prompto and I need to talk with this nice lady and Robyn—you remember Robyn—all right? Can you do me a favor and stay out here and color while we talk?” There were coloring books and a fresh set of crayons in the backpack, along with a slightly squished Needles. 

Pulcher hesitated, sniffling again. Ignis almost wanted him to say ‘No,’ to burst into hysterics and beg them not to leave him. But Pulcher did none of those things. Instead, he whispered, “Okay,” and reluctantly retreated from Ignis’ arms to find a spot on the floor against the wall. 

“Right this way,” Robyn’s voice drifted form what Ignis knew to be her office door. He got up stiffly, feeling suddenly twice his age, and followed the voice. Prompto caught his hand and squeezed as he went. 

“We’ll be right back, kiddo,” Prompto called over his shoulder as they entered the cramped office. Then the door was closed firmly behind them. 

Robyn offered stale coffee that they all turned down as they took their seats. Prompto and Ignis sat on the left side of her desk while Pulcher’s Aunt sat on the right. 

“Ignis, Prompto, I would like you to meet Flos Tantum. Flos, this is Ignis Scientia and Prompto Argentum, Pulcher’s temporary foster parents.” 

“Not that anybody told us that,” Prompto muttered and Ignis only resisted the urge to stomp on Prompto’s foot because he agreed with him. 

“Thank you,” Flos burst out and Ignis almost recoiled when she reached for his hand to shake. “When the sun came up and I couldn’t find Felix—that’s my brother—I thought all three of them were gone.” She sounded close to tears. Ignis carefully extricated his hand. 

“My understanding is that Pulcher had a hard time before he came to us,” Ignis explained. A second later he wondered why he had bothered to say that, but Prompto was already talking. 

“Yeah, he was pretty much afraid of his own shadow,” Prompto said. “But now…he usually sleeps through the night and he’s talking a lot more and sometimes he even lets us play with him, but only sometimes.” Ignis gripped Prompto’s hand and squeezed, half in a signal that he needed to shut up. 

“He’s talking?” Flos asked, and the change in volume indicated she’d turned to speak to Robyn. “You said he was practically selectively mute.” Robyn floundered for a moment, clearly astonished. 

“He was,” she finally said. “You really got him to open up that much so quickly?” 

“It wasn’t hard,” Prompto sniffed, and this time Ignis did step on his foot. 

“He trusts us,” Ignis said carefully. “I don’t believe he’s trusted anyone in a long time. Taking that away from him now…may have consequences.” 

Silence hung heavy in the room for a moment. 

“Are…you saying you want to keep him?” Flos asked. “But I thought…” 

“You thought what? That you could just swoop in and take him away?” Prompto jumped in, practically shouting. Ignis grabbed for Prompto’s arm but misjudged the distance and barely caught his hand again as Prompto jumped up from his seat. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair!” 

“I’m sorry, I must be confused,” Flos said. She was speaking to Robyn again, her voice a mixture of shock tilting towards anger. “I thought keeping families together was the priority here.” 

“We are his family!” 

“Prompto, enough!” Ignis hissed, tugging on Prompto’s hand in an attempt to pull him back into his chair. The blond remained stubbornly standing however, no doubt glowering at the woman seated beside them. 

“I had hoped we could all meet to discuss what was best for Pulcher,” Robyn said, not bothering to hide the exasperation from her voice. The tone quickly morphed into wonder, however, as she directed her next comment to Ignis and Prompto’s side of her desk. “To be honest, though, I had no idea Pulcher had improved so much. What about his nightmares?” 

“We still have to share the bed and keep the lights on, but he sleeps through most nights now.” Ignis reported. His hands and face felt oddly numb. It reminded him of the first time he’d been called on to speak at a Cabinet meeting with King Regis when he was barely fifteen. His mouth and brain seemed capable of carrying on without him while the rest of him felt…detached. 

“Remarkable,” Robyn breathed. 

“You don’t honestly think you can keep my brother’s son from me,” Flos suddenly said, voice hard as steel. “You don’t have the right!” 

“Well…technically the laws are still a bit murky surrounding adoption right now.” Robyn shuffled some papers on her desk in a nervous tic. “There are other rebuilding efforts that take precedence, I’m afraid. We’re merely working with…um…guidelines. But surely if the boy is thriving—” 

“He’s living with strangers! One of whom can’t see!” Flos shot back. She must have been embarrassed by her outburst because a moment later she added a quick, “No offense,” almost under her breath. 

Ignis very nearly retorted, but caught himself just in time. 

"He belongs with his family," Flos said again, and Ignis felt that if he was forced to endure that particular phrase one more time he might scream. He could feel it welling behind his breastbone, clawing to get out. He'd been frustrated before. It came with the territory where Noctis was concerned, after all. But not like this. 

Nothing had ever hurt like this. 

"We _are_ his family," Prompto repeated, as undiplomatic as ever. Ignis wasn't even surprised to hear Flos give a put-upon sigh. As though she were dealing with a particularly unruly child. (A sigh that only made Ignis' blood boil even more because there were certain privileges involved in being able to direct that _sigh_ at Prompto and the only two people alive who had earned said privilege where himself and Gladiolus, thank you very much.) 

"You don't even know him," she said. The words settled on the room like a blanket, daring them to throw it off. To find the strength to do so. Robyn remained silent behind her desk, as if hoping that if she didn't move they might forget she was there altogether. Truth be told, they practically had. 

Prompto sputtered and his arm pulled in Ignis’ grip as he tried to take a step forward. Ignis, however, tugged back and felt his lover grow still. When he was quite certain that Prompto would remain quiet, he raised his face to the woman seated not three feet to his right. 

"Know him?" he repeated calmly. He felt Prompto tense under his touch at the too-calm tone, but continued on anyway. He couldn’t have stemmed the oncoming flood of words if he had wanted to. 

"A few weeks is a brief time, I will grant you that," he conceded, "but only that. Let me tell you what I know. I know that Pulcher suffered unimaginable horrors and fears the dark, because the darkness took his parents away. Blind though I may be, I know he prefers to have a lamp on rather than the dim illumination of a night light. I know that when he is truly frightened, sometimes, there is no way to comfort him aside from holding him while he screams and cries himself out. 

"I know he misses his mother and father very much and that we cannot replace them, but I also know that he does not think we are trying to. I know his trust is hard won but worth every battle because his smile is something to behold—and you can take the word of a blind man on that. I may not be able to see his face, but I've felt it and I know he has high cheek bones beneath his baby fat and a pointed a chin and eyes that have seen far too many terrible things in this word. I know that his sobs can bring me to my knees, and his laughter can as well for its beauty and its rarity. 

"I know that he prefers smooth peanut butter, and if it weren't for Prompto's opposing preference I would stop buying the other altogether because I also know how it sounds when I've used the wrong one and he doesn't want to tell me so. I know that what he needs, more than anything, more than what we can give him versus what you can give him, is stability. Because I know what he fears most of all is being abandoned. 

"And I know that terrifies me because all I want is for him to be happy. And if he's happiest with you, then so be it. Though it feels like ripping out my own heart, we'll withdraw all claim to him for his sake, won't we?" 

It took Prompto a moment to realize he was being addressed, though Ignis hadn't turned his head, and when he did notice he choked out a small, "Y-yeah." The word sounded like it hurt him. 

Ignis knew it did. 

He gripped the handle of his cane and took a deep breath for his final statement. 

"I could go on, Miss Tantum, but I believe you get the picture. Now feel free to continue but please, have a care when it comes to telling me what I do and do not _know_ about my son." 

Prompto was the one who gasped, a second before Ignis' brain caught up with his mouth. Silence filled the room to the brim once more, this time of his making, and Ignis felt his cheeks grow hot. Had he really never used that word before? And when had it become the truth? He wasn't sure, but it most certainly was. There was simply no denying that. 

Blood or no, Pulcher was their son and Ignis would fight for that. He'd lose his sight, his king, and redefine his entire life's purpose all over again for that. For his son. 

They all jumped when the door to Robyn’s office banged opened a second later. The next moment Pulcher was climbing into Ignis’ lap and he let his cane fall with a clatter in favor of wrapping his arms around the trembling child. 

“Stop fighting!” Pulcher shouted before his voice was strangled by sobs. He pressed his wet face into Ignis’ chest. Ignis recovered first and drew in a steadying breath as he began to rub Pulcher’s back gently, 

“Hush,” he whispered into the boy’s soft hair. “Everything is all right.” 

“No it’s not!” Pulcher shouted back, his usual lisp completely overridden in his distress. He twisted suddenly in Ignis’ arms, facing Robyn now. A stray hiccup escaped him as he struggled for breath. Ignis only moved his hand to Pulcher’s hair, stroking it gently in silent support. 

“They…they’re…” he tried and then coughed as more sobs overtook him. 

“Take a few deep breaths, buddy,” Prompto said, reaching across to grip the boy’s shoulder. “No one’s gonna interrupt you.” The two women in the room remained quiet as Pulcher struggled. After only a few minutes, however, his body shook a little less and his cries dried up with the emotional whiplash young children sometimes displayed. Once he was still, Ignis hugged him around the middle gently. 

“Say what you need to say,” he coaxed, still stroking Pulcher’s hair. 

“I know Prom and Iggy aren’t my _real_ Dads, but it feels like they are,” Pulcher began slowly. He was speaking carefully, trying to keep his lisp down to a minimum. Ignis sensed at once he wanted to be absolutely understood. “Prom takes pictures and reads to me and Iggy cooks really good and I know they’re not my parents but…but sometimes I pretend they are.” He sniffled miserably at that admission and shifted in Ignis’ grip to scrub his face with his hands. 

“I think that would make Mama sad, but I think it anyway. And…and I think it would make _me_ sad if I couldn’t stay with them no more.” He whimpered and curled in on himself a bit. “It’d make me really sad.” And with that Pulcher dissolved into helpless tears once more. 

Ignis’ heart ached, but somehow he found the strength in his arms to pass Pulcher over to Prompto, who accepted the child gratefully. He bent to retrieve his cane with as much dignity as he could muster, gripping it tightly to conceal the shaking in his hands. But he needed Pulcher away from him for a moment to think. Or, rather, that’s what he thought he needed. The loss of his warmth and his weight, however, seemed to be the only thing he could concentrate on. 

“That….was more than Pulcher has ever said to me in his life,” Robyn admitted quietly, sounding as though she was voicing a thought more than speaking to any of them. 

“I stand by what I said earlier,” Ignis’ said, his mouth moving despite the loss of all feeling in the rest of his body. He felt like he was floating, and he was vaguely afraid of what would happen when his body met the ground again. “Though, it seems if you take him it will be ‘kicking and screaming,’ as the saying goes.” 

It was possibly cruel to say that. Ignis didn’t care. The only thing in the world that seemed cruel to him at the moment was being forced to conduct a conversation about a child’s future over said sobbing child’s head. 

Flos didn’t answer immediately. In fact, she didn’t answer for several moments. 

“I should have expected something like this,” she finally said, though she didn’t sound resentful. Rather there was something wistful in her voice. “His mother was like this. Lisabet. She was always so dramatic. But she knew what she wanted and she generally got it, too. He looks a lot like her actually. More than my brother.” She seemed to suddenly realize that she was reminiscing and cleared her throat. 

“It’s clear who knows him better. Maybe even who loves him better.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’m a stranger to him. I know that. It’s just that…with Felix gone…his little boy is all I have left.” Her voice threatened to break and Ignis didn’t need to see to know there were tears in her eyes. 

“We all lost a lot in the dark,” Ignis said quietly. She didn’t answer but he got the impression she nodded, or maybe he only hoped she did. Pulcher had quieted again in the interim and sniffled to himself until Ignis finally produced a handkerchief and absently passed it to Prompto. 

“You…live in Lestallum, correct?” Flos asked next. She sounded tired. “I work with one of the Produce Initiative firms. I’m sure I could get a transfer to help oversee Lestallum’s greenhouses.” Ignis blinked once. Twice. His mind stuttered over the effort of processing what she was saying. 

“What do you mean?” Prompto asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I mean…well…I would hope I could visit, at least. You’re right. I don’t know Pulcher. But I’d like to.” 

Ignis lost several seconds of the conversation after that. It seemed suddenly very hard to breathe. The only thing he was aware of was reaching over to grip Pulcher’s small arm, as though reassuring himself that the boy was still there and hadn’t floated away or ceased to exist. Beside him, Prompto started crying.


	8. Epilogue

“Shouldn’t we sing, or something?” 

“It’s not his birthday.” 

“Well…it sort of is.” 

“Pulcher, I think you’d better blow out that candle before it drips wax all over your cake,” Ignis advised in a stage whisper. Pulcher giggled as Prompto and Gladio both gave cries of indignation. Obedient as always, he blew on the single candle. A camera clicked, but since Prompto was still beside him Ignis guessed it came from Iris. Or, possibly, Flos. 

“What’d ya wish for?” Gladio wondered. 

“Can’t dell or it won’ come drue,” Pulcher said sagely. Gladio laughed and clapped Ignis on the back. 

“I can’t believe you guys hid this little guy from me for a whole month,” he said, not for the first time that day. 

“We wanted to give him time to settle in,” Ignis offered, taking up a knife to cut the cake. 

“And to make sure everything shook out in our favor,” Prompto muttered. Ignis shot him a look that he knew still held heat despite the damage to his eyes. 

“Pulcher Argentum-Scientia. Good luck learning how to spell that, kid,” Gladio teased. 

“Technically, his full name is Pulcher Felix Tantum Argentum-Scientia,” Ignis corrected, mostly for Flos’ benefit. This was only her second visit and she had proved herself to be just as timid as Pulcher in organizing visits after the fight in Robyn’s office. Now that the paperwork was signed and she’d proven she wasn’t a threat, however, Ignis felt it only right that Pulcher be allowed to have a healthy relationship with his biological Aunt. The more people who loved him, the better, as far as Ignis was concerned. 

“Thanks for the update, Ignis Stupeo Scientia,” Gladio teased back. 

“Your middle name is ‘stupid?’” Pulcher gasped, to the delight of all the adults in the room save Ignis. 

“Thank you for that,” Ignis growled as he deliberately passed a slice of cake with a large icing flower to Iris. Gladio would never say it, but Ignis knew he liked the pieces with the most icing. 

“He was gonna find out eventually,” Gladio shrugged, taking the knife from Ignis’ hands to cut his own piece. Ignis huffed and straightened to give Gladio room. 

“Don’t make Dad mad,” Pulcher advised around a mouthful of cake. 

“Why not?” Gladio asked, at the same time that Ignis admonished, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

“Cuz he makes all the food,” Pulcher replied. That set the adults laughing again and Prompto must have scooped him up because a moment later he was laughing shrilly as well. 

“Daddy, no!” Pulcher giggled. “That tickles!” 

“So how come you’re ‘Dad’ and he’s ‘Daddy?’” Gladio asked next, elbowing Ignis good-naturedly. 

“Because I’m the fun one,” Prompto said immediately before blowing a raspberry against Pulcher’s skin. The boy shrieked again and Ignis couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the sound. 

“Keep it up and you’ll be finding your own supper, Gladio,” he said, but there wasn’t any heat in the threat and they all knew it. 

Ignis didn’t take a piece of cake for himself but pulled out a chair and sat down at the table instead, listening to Pulcher laugh and beg to be set free. It was hard to imagine that only a few short weeks ago their apartment had never housed a child’s laughter. Or that for a while it had only held anguished cries. Pulcher still slept with them most nights, but there was plenty of time to work on that and for now Ignis savored his tiny presence in their bed. He wouldn’t be so small forever, after all. 

Now, Ignis was ashamed to admit to himself that in those first few days he would have welcomed Flos’ appearance on the scene and been more than happy for circumstances to take Pulcher from them. He would have told himself that it was for the best and that though Prompto would undoubtedly be sad, he would get over. Looking back, he was embarrassed by his own callousness but not necessarily surprised by it. Children had never been a planned part of his life. But then again, falling in love hadn’t been either. 

“Dad?” Ignis shook his head at the sound of Pulcher’s voice. He had evidently been returned to his chair and seemed to be watching Ignis with some concern. It reminded Ignis of a night when they’d stood facing each other in the hallway, both tired and scared and unsure of one another. 

Except now they knew one another far better. 

“Whad’s wrong?” Pulcher asked predictably, an apology ready on his tongue. 

“Nothing,” Ignis said, and pulled Pulcher into his lap to prove that he meant it. “Absolutely nothing is wrong, my love.” He pulled Pulcher’s plate over so it was in front of them and held the boy as he dug out another fork-full of cake. Ignis smiled and kissed the side of his son’s head. 

“Happy Adoption Day, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more notes on names:
> 
> Tantum is Latin for "only"  
> Felix is Latin for "luck"  
> Flos is Latin for "flower"  
> Lisabet is a bastardized combination of two of my favorite fictional women: Elisabet Sobeck from "Horizon: Zero Dawn" and Lisbeth Salander from "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo"
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, along with all the other stories in the Promnised Land Big Bang!


End file.
